Of Spells and Secrets
by keepcalmandbesadistic
Summary: England has secrets. A lot of them. It isn't until they inevitably catch up with him that he finally shares them. Turns out Lukas isn't the only one with a questionable mortality status, after all. (The summary makes it sound a lot better than it is. I wrote this ages ago, and it is awful, so please feel free to ignore it.)
1. Chapter 1

Sunflower Plaza, Moscow, Russia

Arthur felt like shit.

Worse, he felt like dead shit.

Dead shit that had been burnt to less than a crisp, resurrected and tortured to death once more.

But that wasn't the problem. (Not yet, anyway.)

The fact that he was in a meeting didn't help him, for there was nothing to do but try (and fail) to keep his mind on the discussion and try (and fail once again) not to worry about the way he was so hot that he felt like he was on fire when he was in the middle of a Russian winter and everyone else looked like they were shivering.

Nor did the fact that he did not know why he felt so bloody terrible, and therefore did not know how to stop it.

That was the problem.

It wasn't as if he was experiencing financial problems. Nor was he experiencing any other kind of nation-related problems. It was just him feeling awful (and it wasn't the first time he was unwell like this), which made no sense for any physical problems he experienced should always be related to his nation's status, economical or geographical. The only human afflictions the personifications suffered from was poor eyesight. Then again, that rule wasn't one Arthur paid any attention to. If he did, he would probably end up freaking out. A lot. He was perfectly aware of the fact that nations weren't meant to have allergies or intolerances, and he was also aware of the fact that if he were a normal nation, he wouldn't suffer from asthma or anaemia. (For these reasons, Arthur had kept said illnesses to himself and tried to use his inhaler in private only, take his pills when others weren't looking, and declined any food that he wasn't entirely sure wouldn't trigger a reaction. He had also kept his current affliction to himself, as it had to come to an end soon- it had been going on for a while- and there was no point in bothering them unnecessarily.)

But he tried not to let that worry him.

Nor did he let the fact that the words on the page in front of him were blurring into each other panic him slightly. Nor the fact that it was becoming considerably harder to breathe, but there was no way he was about to use his inhaler. After all, the meeting was virtually finished. All he needed to do was to get out of here. Then he could use his inhaler as much as he liked and go to sleep.

He wasn't actually able worry about the way that his blurry vision twisted like a kaleidoscope as he fell onto the floor, and he certainly couldn't worry about the way he temporarily lost the ability to breathe as well as his consciousness as he tried to struggle back with his peers to the accommodation part of the Russian skyscraper they were living in for a week while they argued over trivial matters. No, he was blissfully unaware of that particular fact, and therefore unable to worry about it.

But that didn't stop the others worrying.

Japan had been watching his friend for the best part of the four-hour meeting now. He knew he should be listening, but scratch his work, one of his closest friends was ill, and pretty seriously so too if his colouring (or rather, lack thereof) and heavy breathing was anything to go by. He knew that if he asked Arthur what was wrong all he would get in reply was a typically irritated "I'm fine", but Kiku could see he wasn't, and his thoughts were beyond confirmed when Arthur suddenly collapsed onto the carpeted floor as the meeting drew to an end and everyone left for their rooms. Panicking, Kiku yelled out in fear for his closest friend.

"Arthur-kun!" The Asian nation crouched by the thin (how did he get so thin? How did Kiku not notice that Arthur was so clearly underweight?) Briton collapsed on the floor.  
"Yao!" He yelled, forgetting his manners for there were more important things right now. "Help me! I don't think he's breathing!"

At these words, the room went into chaos. Nations didn't just collapse unless something really terrible was happening inside of their borders, and at the moment, the UK was great. Money left, right and centre and the best environment one could hope for. Why? It made no sense. And even those whose financial status was in ruins and whose geography was to be shuddered at didn't stop breathing. And so, chaos was ensured. Japan shooed most of the people out of the room except for a handful of family, close friends and medically trained nations as China was forced to perform CPR on the British man.

"Russia, get me an oxygen mask; America, C-Can.. Canada, call an ambulance. Now-aru." Yao said as he managed to make the Englishman breathe once more and tried to bring his heart rate back to normal. Russia nodded and sprinted away, and the twins sped off at inhumane speeds.

"But, Yao-san, he is a nation. Human doctors won't help."

"Maybe so, but they can help more than we can-aru. They have better equipment and better resources."

"Ve~ Why is Mr Britain sick?" Italy asked, tears in his eyes.

"Sshh, Feli. We don't know." Germany said somewhat quietly as he he put an arm around his distressed boyfriend, shaken by his friend's sudden collapse. Or was it sudden? Arthur had been looking tired and pale for the last few weeks, but weren't they all tired? But... Nations don't collapse... Ludwig ran a hand through his short, blonde hair as the North American brothers sprinted back, Canada in the lead.

"They're on their way, I didn't tell them who we were..."  
The tall Russian ran in, mask in hand. "He will be okay, da?" Russia said, handing the mask to China.

"Of course, he is under my care-aru!"

"Since when did you care about Iggy, commie bastard?"

"Britain is my friend. And America, I am not communist anymore, but I am inclined to believe that communism is a better idea than creating superheroes to conquer global warming, da?"

"Ivan, Al- Fighting right now is not a good idea. Ivan, leave my brother alone; Al, leave my boyfriend alone."

Canada sighed, worried about his British father. He knew Arthur was already hiding quite a few secrets, but he also knew that it took a while to get this ill, and he had therefore been hiding this, too. Matthew tried not to be too annoyed about the fact that he kept his many human afflictions to himself, but he should at least tell his sons if he wasn't feeling well for reasons unrelated to his country, for that was not good in the slightest. He exasperated Matthew, always keeping his secrets clutched to his chest, convinced it was for the best. Being the quiet, perceptive person he was, Canada could normally see through his barriers, but he wasn't always able to judge just how serious the situation was, like today, for instance.

He should have noticed that his father was unwell, and he was now facing the consequences in the form of an oxygen mask and an ambulance.

"Matvey? You okay, da?" His lover was looking at him worriedly.

"J-just worried, Ivan. Don't worry about me. How is Arthur doing?"

"Matvey, if you know something about Arthur that we don't..."

Canada sighed. If it could help Arthur, he ought to tell the others what the Briton didn't know he knew of.  
"Yao, you are the most medically experienced out of all of us, I need to know this. Is it normal for nations to suffer from human afflictions?"

"In what way-aru? We suffer from cold-like illnesses as the result of our country's difficulties, is that what you mean?"

"No, I mean allergies, intolerances-"

"Britain suffers from allergies-aru?"

"Yes, and intolerances, but that's not it, he also has asthma and anaemia, I've seen the medicine he keeps in the pocket of his jacket."

"...We aren't supposed to have human afflictions-aru."

"Er, I don't mean to interfere, but the ambulance is nearly here, I can see it. Shall I deal with it?"

"Thank you, Germany. Ai yah, it seems that Britain is keeping quite a few secrets from us-aru..."

"He will be okay, Matvey, da?" Russia put his arms around his now shaking boyfriend.

"O-ouais... N-nations c-can't d-d-die, r-right, Y-yao?"

"Hai, but nations can't suffer from human illnesses, either."

"That... That is a good point, Kiku. Not a nice one, but a good one-aru."

"I am sorry. I am just worried for Arthur-kun. He is my closest friend."

"We are all worried, da?"

"Hai. I am sorry."

"Nyet, don't apologise, I was just reminding you that you are not alone, da?" Russia smiled warmly at the raven-haired nation. He was ever grateful to the amethyst-eyed nation for helping him see that he was not who he wanted to be. If it weren't for his Matvey he would never had befriended Arthur, one of his closest companions. Now, the British blonde was in danger, and the least Ivan could do was comfort his peers.

As the paramedics lifted the unconscious blonde out of the room, followed by Germany, the rest of the nations arranged transport to the hospital and tried to figure out exactly what had happened to their companion, and finally giving up as they realised they weren't getting anywhere. Only Arthur knew what was wrong with him, and they couldn't ask him until he woke up... Their best bet was to follow the ambulance to the hospital. Each nation worried for their hot-headed friend, they divided into groups small enough to fit into regular cars.

Two days later  
EMC, Moscow, Russia

As the sleepy haze lifted, Arthur's eyelids fluttered and he managed to open them fully. What he saw just made him groan (as best he could with an oxygen mask obstructing his face) and close them again.

"Ve~ Mr Britain, you're awake!" Italy said joyfully.

Arthur lifted a hand, pulled off the mask and lifted his head so he could see exactly what was going on. Brilliant, he thought. Abso-bloody-lutely brilliant. He was lying in a bed, in a hospital with various IV lines in and wires trailing to a heart monitor. (And ugh, was that a feeding tube?) Three nations were in the room with him, all looking worriedly at him.

"Ve~ I'll go tell the others that you're awake..."

"Alright, what happened?" He sighed hoarsely and struggled to a sitting position.

"Eh, Arthur, I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to take that mask off, you may need it. And I really don't think you should be sitting up."

"I'm fine, Matthew. What happened?" The nations looked at each other uncomfortably.

"Well... You sort of just.. Passed out. And then- then you stopped breathing. And Yao says your heartbeat was unnaturally slow."

"I stopped breathing? And my heart was... Slow?"

"And Yao-san performed CPR on you. But Arthur-kun, you really should have told us that you were feeling unwell." Japan spoke up for the first time.

"And we know, by the way."

"Know what?" Confusion flickered over Arthur's pale face.

"That you have intolerences, allergies, asthma and anaemia."

"Bloody- How- How did you find out?"

"Matthew-san noticed and told us after you collapsed."

"Ah- I see- Er, how long have I been-"

"Two days."

"Two- I-"

"Iggy! You're awake! Dude, you nearly made me get all worried and stuff!" America burst through the door, followed by the others. "Why did you collapse and stuff? Why didn't you tell me you were ill? That's totally unheroic! Even the commie bastard was worr-"

"Al, stop, he's only just woken up. And please, stop insulting my boyfriend." Canada cut in, earning a grateful look from Arthur.

"...I don't really know why I collapsed, I have a theory, but it's not a pleasant one, and I'm not sure. I didn't tell you I was I'll because I didn't think it was important. And Matthew is right, stop annoying Ivan, he and Matthew are very good at hockey and I happen to quite like the shape of this room. I'm not sure that it would look quite as good if it were destroyed by a pair of hockey players on a rampage. Now scram, I want to talk to Yao, and in private."

"But-"

"You heard him-aru."  
America sighed and stalked off, followed by the other nations.

"What was it you wanted to talk about, Arthur-aru?"

"Well, if what Canada and Japan said was right, and you did resuscitate me, I must thank you. For you see, it is very likely that if you hadn't, I would be dead."

"But... We can't die-aru."

"You can't. I have no idea as to my mortality status."

"But, Arthur... Wars... Natural disasters... Financial problems..." Yao stuttered slightly, confused.

"I played it safe in wars, we don't get very severe natural disasters in the UK, and... Well, when my prime ministers saw Allistor's paperwork, they made sure I couldn't possibly die."

"Arthur... Why the hell didn't you tell someone?"

"Yao," Arthur said, somewhat more softly. "Would you have told someone if you were in my position?"

Yao considered this. His first thought was that of course he would tell someone, they may be able to help. And then he realised that by telling someone he would be almost admitting defeat to the illnesses. He would rather ignore them and therefore not worry about them, and the last thing he would want was for others to worry about him, so he would keep quiet. Even if...

"You there yet?" Arthur asked, seeing the comprehension on the Asian nation's feminine face.

"Ai yah... Yes, I understand now. But I think I would have told someone in the end, rather than collapse-aru."

"But that is simply because you are more experienced in medicine than I, and therefore would have recognised the right time to tell someone better than me."

"That... That may be true-aru."

"As a matter of interest, what did the doctors say?"

Yao gulped. "They... They didn't know specifically what was wrong with you. It is not entirely a human condition-aru. And we have not informed them that we are not humans."

"Hmmm... Not a human condition, yet not nation-related. Interesting. Where is my jacket? I ought to call my boss and explain."

"I'll do it, you still need rest."

"Thank you, Yao. I really appreciate it."

"Anything I can do to help-aru."

Arthur hummed in thought. "Actually, my brothers ought to know, too, they weren't at the meeting."

"You can call them later, after you have slept-aru."

"Well, I daren't argue with you. Not after you saved my life."

Yao blushed slightly and handed his British friend some pills. "Here, I want to know you are sleeping properly-aru."

"Mmm." He thew the pills into his mouth, taking a swig of the water beside him.

"Yao... I'm sorry."

"For what-aru?"

"For this. For everything."

"...You're sorry for being ill?" Yao raised an eyebrow.

"Well, when you put it that way..." Arthur sighed. "I'm sorry for causing a fuss, and for worrying everyone. I'm sorry for not telling you and I'm sorry for interrupting the meetings. I'm just... Sorry."

"I can understand why you wouldn't tell anyone, and you aren't to blame for interrupting the meeting. It's not as if you planned on collapsing-aru. It would be heartless not to worry if someone is ill, but you didn't cause a fuss. I believe, dear Arthur, that your argument is invalid. So now you must sleep-aru."

Arthur could feel himself getting more tired by the second. "Yao, you're (yawn) too (yawn) wise sometimes." Arthur said wearily as he fell back onto his pillows and his eyes slid shut.

Yao walked out of the room, asking the Nordics to watch Arthur. He knew most of them were medically trained, so in the event that something happened they could act fast and efficiently.  
He found the Englishman's jacket and searched the pockets until he found what he was looking for: a well-cared-for iPhone with a Union Jack case on it. Unlocking it (Arthur was so predictable; of course his passcode would be "flyingmintbunny"), he called Arthur's Prime Minister.

10 Downing Street, London, England

Arthur Kirkland and George Harrington were on very good terms. In fact, rather than colleagues, one would perhaps describe them as best friends. They worked very well together, and spent time together out of the office as well. Therefore, he was somewhat worried when Arthur didn't contact him for two entire days, work-related or not. And when his phone rang, the caller ID telling him it was Arthur Kirkland, he was startled to hear a Chinese accent on the other end, instead of a aristocratically husky English one.

"Hello, Arthur?"

"Ni hao, is this George Harrington-aru?"

Taken aback, the Prime Minister stumbled over his words a little. "Y-yes, sorry, who is s-speaking?"

"I am Yao Wang, a close friend of Arthur's and the personification of China-aru. I believe we met last year at one of Arthur's dinner parties?"

Remembering the petite man, he replied politely. "Ah, yes, I remember. Forgive me, but why are you calling?"

"Ah, yes, I have some rather unpleasant news. I presume you are aware of the international meetings taking place in Moscow this week-aru?"

"Yes, why?"

"Two days ago, Arthur- ah- collapsed at the end of one of those meetings. He lost consciousness and stopped breathing. I performed CPR on him and he is recovering here in a Russian hospital, he woke up about an hour ago. He is currently sleeping-aru."

Shivers of fear ran down the Prime Minister's spine like ice. "Why? Is he going to be alright? Where is he? I shall come to Russia!"

"He should be fine. I am not sure you should come to Russia- you must have a lot of work. As for why, well, I'm not sure even Arthur knows."

"I am coming to Russia- just let me contact my colleagues. Where is he? Which hospital?"

"If you insist-aru. He is in the European Medical Centre, Moscow. It is a private hospital. I'll send someone to get you from the airport- what time do you want to leave? I shall get Ivan to send his jet, that way you will arrive much faster-aru."

"I don't care what time I leave, Mr Wang. And there is no point sending a jet from Russia when I can use one of Arthur's- he lets me borrow them when I wish. I can be in Russia in about four hours, so that will be around five in Moscow's time zone. Is that okay?"

"Yes, I shall get Ludwig to pick you up from Domodedovo Airport for five. Are you sure about this-aru?"

"Of course- Arthur is not just my colleague, he is my best friend. If he is ill, I must see him. And what's more, he will have to come back to England once he is well enough to travel, and I am the only person who knows exactly where would be best for him to recover without interference."

"Okay, I shall see you in approximately five hours, Prime Minister. Have a safe journey-aru."

"Goodbye, Mr Wang. I shall see you soon."

Five hours later  
Domodedovo International Airport, Moscow, Russia

"Guten Abend, Mr Harrington." The intimidating German greeted the dark-haired, brown-eyed politician.

"Good evening, Mr Beilschmidt. It is good to see you again."

"The feeling is mutual." Germany held open the door of the expensive German SUV that was glinting in the wintery late afternoon sunlight.

"How is he doing?" Harrington questioned as he slid into the passenger seat.

"He is still sleeping, he should wake up soon. He is not aware that you are coming." The German started up the engine.

"I see. Do you know why he...?"

"No, none of us know, but China says that Arthur had a theory. He didn't seem too happy about it."

"Right. And what did the doctors say?"

"They do not know. It is not a human condition."

"And it's not nation-related, either?"

"We do not suffer from illnesses unless our country is in trouble."

"...Really?"

"Ja, why?"

"Arthur... He has several medical conditions... And he has to miss work occasionally due to sickness, and the country is really not in any way hard for cash or geographically damaged..."

"...We knew about his asthma and such, but does he really get ill often?"

"Not often, but about thrice a year (as far as I know), for about a week."

"Mr Harrington, we nations don't get ill unless our country is suffering. The United Kingdom is currently very well off all round, and has been for the past few centuries. If Arthur is ill at all, that is not good. How long has this been going on?"

"...Since before I came into office."

"Mein Gott. Why, England, why?!" Germany pulled into the car park of the hospital quickly and angrily. "Why did he leave it so long? We could have helped him, now look at him!" Germany leapt out and slammed one of the doors of the car shut and held the other open for the Prime Minister.

"I know. But Arthur is a very strange and proud man indeed, Mr Beilschmidt."

A/N

Er... Hi, I guess. This isn't my main FF account, I just decided to upload one of the ancient fanfics that have been on my computer for ages. So, if you're wondering why it's so awful, and why the plot is beyond ridiculous, that is why.

I'm sorry.


	2. Chapter 2

Kirkland Castle, Scotland

"Hello, this is Arthur Kirkland. I'm not able to answer my phone at the moment, so please leave a message, unless you happen to be an obese Yank with a hero complex or a perverted frog who, for some reason, is also my husband. If you happen to be one of the latter, I am afraid I shall have to ask you to kindly fuck off unless it happens to be the end of the world. In which case, make me some tea and then fuck off. Good day."

Allistor Kirkland sighed. This was the fifth time he had called his little brother and he still got no reply. Arthur had promised to keep his siblings in the loop for the duration of his stay in Russia, yet he had not made any kind of contact in two days. He rang again and decided to leave a message. He blew his fiery orange hair out of his grassy green eyes and picked up his phone again.

"Artie! Pick up your feckin' phone, you bastard. You promised to keep us informed, bloody imbecile. You know Patrick should be there as well as you, and he's feeling guilty that he's not helping you. Seriously, he's getting all fussy 'cause your always the to do the work. Just call and reassure the wee sissy, will you? He's coming to me to complain, and I don't want the feckin' Republic of Ireland knocking down my door, thanks. You shoulda just let him come with you, you know. Call back, Artie, or else. To use your words, good day, you fucker."

He sighed again and put down his phone. He'd already sent about ten emails asking his brother why he wasn't contacting his siblings. All he received was an automated message saying he would be out of the office for the week. The red-haired nation was actually quite worried about his workaholic little brother, but in no circumstances would he say it aloud. He just couldn't understand why Arthur wasn't answering his phone. He definitely wasn't in a meeting, and the chances of Arthur losing or damaging his phone were an absolute zero. He always answered his phone to his brothers, unless he was in a meeting and even then his usually excused himself to do so, and if not, called back straight away afterwards.

After several minutes of debating on what to do, Allistor came to a decision. He picked up his own iPhone (cracked screen, case with a somewhat faded Scottish flag on. He could easily afford a thousand new ones, but he just couldn't be bothered) and, picking up a cigarette and lighting it, texted his old friend, Italy.

EMC, Moscow, Russia

"Dude, you just vibrated."

"Ve~ that was my phone!"  
Italy and America sat together outside Arthur's room, talking idly. They were close friends, both close to England and Japan, and both in search of a way to learn to read the atmosphere. So far, they had got nowhere with that.

"Oh! Mr. Scotland has messaged me! Ve~" Italy tapped the notification and brought up his messaging app. Hmm, he thought to himself. I should probably set my clock to Russian time.

Allistor Kirkland, 14:26  
Hey Italy Artie isnt picking up his phone you know why?

Italy swallowed. "Ve~ Alfredo, I'm gonna go find Kiku. I'm not sure what to reply with to Mr. Scotland's text."

"Huh? Oh, sure, dude. Wait, who's Scotland?"

"Ve~ He's Mr England's brother!"

"Iggy has brothers?"

"Ve~ Of course! The rest of the UK and the Republic of Ireland! Oh, and the little Sealand!"

"There are countries in Britain other than England?"

"Ve~ Si! Now, I really should go... See you later, Alfredo!"

"See you, dude!"

Italy found Japan in a corridor not far from where he had been sitting with America, talking with China and listening to a message on what was (if the Union Jack case was anything to go by) apparently England's phone.

"Ve~ Kiku! I need to show you something!" Kiku looked up, slightly startled.

"Hai, Feliciano-kun, what is it?"

"Ve~ Mr Scotland sent me a text and I don't know how to reply!"

"Hmmm... He sent you a message... Let's see it-aru!"

Italy passed China his phone. "Ve~ I don't want to worry him, but I don't want to lie, either." Italy said, uncharacteristically serious.

"Scotland-san is really worried about Arthur-kun. Perhaps we should tell him?"

"No, let Arthur tell him himself. It is better that way-aru."

"Ve~ So what should I say?"

"I think you should say that Arthur will be in contact with him soon. That way, you are reassuring him, but not telling him anything Arthur will want to tell him himself."

"Ve~ Kiku, you are so clever! Thank you! And thank you too, Mr. China! See you later!"

"Hai, see you later, Feliciano-kun."

"He is so sweet-aru!" China said, once Italy was out of earshot.

"Hai, he is quite kawaii."

A corridor away, Italy tapped in a polite text to his Scottish friend, his optimistic mind on pasta and Germany.

Kirkland Castle, Scotland

Feliciano Vargas, 14:35  
Ve~ Arthur will contact you soon, don't worry~

That message was oddly vague for the bubbly Italian that Allistor knew. However, he brushed off the thought and replied with his thanks. Rather worried about his baby brother now, he went for a run to burn off his frustration.

What time did Italy mean by soon?

EMC, Moscow, Russia

Harrington stepped into his friend's hospital room, worry consuming him. He breathed in sharply at the sight of his colleague- friend- nation, for god's sake- sleeping peacefully despite the many wires and tubes that the Prime Minister was rather worried by. A feeding tube? Why would Arthur need one of those? And all of those IV lines... God, Arthur looked small...

"Hej. You. Are you Harrington?" A hand was waved in front of his face. He focused his eyes on the face attached to the hand, and found a tall blonde with a hairstyle that defied gravity.

"Matthias! Sit down! Of course he's Harrington, don't you recognise him?"

"Oh yeah..."

"Gud, you're stupid. God dag, Prime Minister, I apologise for my boyfriend's behaviour." The Prime Minister turned to face the others in the room. The speaker was a petite man whose hair was a platinum blonde, pinned back on one side by a steel hair slide. Harrington recognised him as Lukas Bondevik, aka Norway, a fairly close friend of Arthur's. Lukas nodded politely at him and excused both himself and his boyfriend, who he presumed to be Denmark. He faced the three left and greeted them politely.

"How long should it be until he wakes up?"

"Any minute now, he's been asleep for about five hours." Finland replied with a reassuring smile.

"Er- why he has got a feeding tube? He's eating, isn't he?"

"He's underweight." Sweden said quietly. "Needs the nutrients."

"...I see."

"I'm going to find Leon." Iceland said flatly. "It was good to see you, Mr. Harrington."

"We should go, too, I'm sure you want to talk alone. If anything happens, press the button on the wall and either a doctor or one of us will be there. China, Japan, Germany, Canada, Lithuania and all of us are medically trained, you see."

"Thank you, Mr Väinämöinen."

For the first few minutes after the Nordics had left, Arthur slept as he had for the previous five hours. When he started to wake from his sleep, Harrington looked up in time to see his emerald eyes open... And fix on his own brown ones in confusion and anger.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here, George?!" He cried somewhat weakly, struggling upright.

"Arthur, lie down. Don't overexert yourself. I am here to see how my best friend is doing. I was shocked when Yao called me earlier, telling me that you had collapsed during a meeting, so I borrowed one of your planes. I hope you don't mind."

"No, but... Sebastiano... Your work..."

"Arthur. Please. Don't give me that. The office can cope without me. You are unwell, and I am your friend. It would be heartless not to come."

"Hmph," Arthur pouted. Harrington raised an eyebrow. "I still don't agree with it."

"That, dear Arthur is because you are a stubborn little bitch." Harrington smirked, letting his guard down in a way he could only do when in the company of Arthur or his boyfriend, Sebastiano.

"And that, dear George, is no way to speak to an ill person."

"And that, dear Arthur, is very good point which I have chosen to ignore."

Arthur pouted again. "But my dear George, that is against the rules."

"And who said there were rules?"

"Hmm, I suppose any ruled were disregarded when you decided to come to Russia, you bloody git."

Harrington snapped his long fingers. "Arthur, we are getting off track."

Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow. "If you say so."

"I do."

"Then by all means, dear boy, bring us back onto the track."

"I shall. First things first, would you like me to call Robert?"

Harrington referred to Arthur's personal doctor. Nations in general did not have these, but considering Arthur's frequent illnesses and his conditions, he had one anyway.

"I suppose he ought to know, he is the only human doctor currently alive who knows who I really am..."

"That's what I thought. Secondly, have you any idea why you are ill?"

"Not a clue, but I'm worried, George. Nations aren't meant to get ill, and I almost died." Arthur said, uncharacteristically nervously.

"I know what you're thinking, and that doesn't mean that you're going to die. Apart from anything else, Russian healthcare is very good."

"This is the first time I have almost died from it."

"You can't possibly be dying, you are physically only 26."

"Atlantis was only 29."

"You knew Atlantis?"

"Yes, funny bloke, awfully clever."

"How old were you when he passed away?"

"About ten, I think."

Sighing in disbelief, Harrington ran a hand through his hair and shook his bangs out of his eyes.

"You're not going to die, Arthur. We won't let you."

"If you say so. Go and eat something, you look starved."

"Says he who is underweight."

"Takes one to know one."

"I'm not underweight!"

"You will be if you don't eat something soon."

"For someone who claims that they are dying, you're quite energetic."

Arthur pointed to himself and said, "Kirkland."

Harrington mimicked the action and said, "Your boss. Boss says rest."

"...What?"

"Rest, Arthur. Lie down. Don't overexert yourself."

"That's exactly what the doctors said. Except they said it in Russian. And Yao, and Ludwig, and all of Nordic fucking Europe. Oh, and Matthew. And then the rest of the world, in each of their own separate ways..."

"Then perhaps you should listen."

"I am resting. I was asleep for two bloody days straight!"

"Correction. You were passed out for two days straight."

"I was still lying down with my eyes closed."

"I suppose."

"Now go eat. And sleep. Jet lag's a bitch."

"Only if you rest. And a flight to Russia isn't really long-haul."

"Bloody hell, George, I am resting!"

"Okay, okay. Oh, China will come in, your brothers are getting their underwear in a twist. He said you'll call them."

"Thanks. Now scram."

"Ever the gentleman."

Arthur pointed to himself and said, "Punk. Pirate. Robin bloody Hood."

"You make me feel so young."

"My pleasure. Now go."

Harrington sighed yet again and suddenly remembered something.  
"Oh, this is for you," Arthur watched as George reached into his duffel bag and drew out Arthur's iPad. "But if you even think about using it for work, I will have Mr. Braginsky and Mr. Williams beat it to a powder with their hockey sticks."

"Yes, yes. Thank you, George, much appreciated."

Harrington mock-saluted and left the room, leaving Arthur to delve into his large collection of iBooks.

Yao strode into Arthur's room ten minutes later to find the blonde bowed over his iPad, cursing at... Angry Birds? What the hell?

"Arthur, since when did you play Angry Birds-aru? Very retro." Yao snickered.

"Since I realised that I have a limited collection of iBooks, but I haven't even got halfway through the first level of Angry Birds."

Yao snickered. "You know, I never saw you as an Angry Birds person-aru."

"And I never saw you as a Hello Kitty person, Yao. Die, die, die!"

"Hmph. Anyway-aru, here is your phone, you need to call Allistor."

"Wait a minute... Ha! Three stars! Sorry, what was that?" Arthur finally looked up.

"Hehee~ When you're gaming you are just like America! And you need to call Scotland-aru."

"I am NOT like Alfred!" Arthur said defensively, taking his phone.

"Whatever you say-aru. Just call your brother."

"Yes, yes. Goodbye, Yao."

The Chinese man left the room, taking the hint.

"Allistor? It's Arthur."

Kirkland Castle, Scotland

"Allistor? It's Arthur." Arthur's voice was definitely huskier than usual, and somewhat quieter. Weaker.

"Artie? Why the feckin' hell didn't you call sooner? Didn't you get my message?"

"You left a message? Sorry, I didn't know. I only just got my phone back. And it's Arthur, not Artie."

"Back from where? Arthur, what's going on? And why can I hear a beeping in the background?"

"Er, yes... I have something to tell you..."

"What, Arthur?! What the fuck is going on?! Where are you, I know you can't have been in a meeting for two days straight!" On the other end of the line, Arthur winced.

"I'm in Moscow... In a hospital."

"What? Did someone get hurt? Did Switzerland go on a shooting rampage again?"

"No, no, everyone else is fine."  
"ELSE?! Why everyone ELSE, Artie?! Just tell me what the feckin' hell is going on!"

"I- ah- I may have collapsed during a meeting."

"...You collapsed?" Allistor's tone was softer now.

"I wasn't feeling well, and my asthma was playing up, and-"

"Since when did you have asthma?"

"A-all my life." Busted, in Alfred's words.

"Arthur. Are you telling me you have been hiding a medical condition that could be serious from me all of your life?" Allistor's tone got dangerous.

"Not just you, and not just asthma." Arthur mumbled.

"Arthur William James Kirkland-Bonnefoy," Allistor only used Arthur's middle names and married name (speaking of married names, where was the frog? Oh, that's right... The bloody idiot managed to get himself "grounded" by his boss, meaning that he couldn't even leave the country for work...) when he was very angry. In Moscow, Arthur was close to shaking with fear. "What else have you been hiding?"

"I'm asthmatic, anaemic, allergic to almost anything a doctor can test for, intolerant to dairy products, gluten, a bunch of other things and I have take time off work about thrice a year because I get ill with something that no-one can diagnose. I am the only nation to have a personal doctor, I am the only nation to have any medical condition that isn't bad eyesight, and I am the only nation to ever require CPR!" Arthur yelled at his brother.

Allistor was silent for a moment.  
"And despite all of that, you still insist on doing the work fer the whole of the UK, AND the Republic of Ireland?" His tone was soft once again.

"...You lot are bloody terrible at paperwork." Arthur said weakly.

"So, mind telling me why you collapsed?"

"I said, I wasn't feeling well, and I wasn't about to use my inhaler in front of the whole meeting room."

"You idiot, Artie! I know you've got the whole 'stiff upper lip' thing going on (as we Kirklands do), but this is going too far. The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland is one of the best places on this Earth, yet you, the personification of England, are sick, Arthur."

"I know, I know. Trust me, I'm pretty embarrassed about the whole affair- Yao had to perform CPR on me! If that isn't bloody embarrassing I don't know what is. But would you have told anybody if you were in my position?"

"Yes! I would have done!"

"Hmph, Yao agreed with me."

"You do realise I have to tell Patrick, Peter, Connor and Owain, don't you?"

"Bloody hell, you're right."

"So what do I tell them?"

"Just tell them I passed out. Might as well be blunt."

"I still don't get why exactly you passed out. The country's fine."

"We think that it is because I am more humane than the rest of the nations. That would also explain the other problems."

"But you haven't passed out before."

"No, I haven't, but between you and me, this isn't my first stay in a hospital, not by any means."

"You what, Artie?"

"I'm anaemic, remember? And asthmatic, and the rest of it."

"What're you saying?"

"In the past few centuries, I have had a few problems from my different afflictions."

"...So you've had an asthma attack before?"

"And the rest of it, yes."

"And we didn't notice."

"My last asthma attack was when I was in a meeting with George. I've never had one around any other nation, thank god. There was no way for you to find out, I'm too good at covering it."

"And you get ill often?"

"Not often compared to a human, but yes, often for a nation. Look, stop worrying yourself."

"But you're my little brother!"

"I'll be fine. Please don't worry."

"Kirklands look out for their fellow Kirklands."

"Just call the others."

"You know Owain'll burst into tears and beg to go to Russia to make sure you're okay, don't you?"

"Unfortunately, I do."

"Do I let him?"

"Do whatever you want, George came without my permission."

"Wait, George is in Moscow?"

"Yes, he took one of my jets."

"How'd he do that without your permission?"

"I was asleep when Yao phoned him."

"Seriously?"

"Oi, I'm allowed to sleep, I'm unwell. I was asleep for two days, and then Yao gave me some pills that made me sleep for five more hours. Otherwise, I would have called you sooner."

"Two- feckin' hell Artie! You bloody wanker! You complete and utter bastard! Idiot!"

"If I wanted to be insulted, I would have gone to Romano."

"Why didn't you tell us? Your family? Until you collapsed, your personal doctor and the Prime Minister were the only people who knew that you have to put up with countless conditions, three times a year takin' time off work to suffer from something else- and only two days ago did people find out what you've been sufferin' with for centuries, and why? Because you bloody collapse! You could've died, Artie!"

"Calm yourself, Allistor, nations can't die."

"And they can't have asthma attacks, either! To be honest, Artie, how can I know that my little brother cannot die?"

"Russian healthcare is very good..." Arthur quoted George weakly.

"Don't give me that shit, Artie! In future, you tell us everything! And in future, you don't overwork yourself, you imbecile!"

"But... You lot are absolutely shit at paperwork."

"I don't care! You will do nothing until you are better, okay? And then, you will only do half. No arguing."

"For fuck's sake, Allistor, calm down. My god, the others tell me I have a temper, they should see you!"

"Whatever, Artie. Just get better, 'kay?"

"Yes, yes. Now go and call the others before they do something stupid, okay?"

"Okay. I'll call you later, Artie, be awake."

"How can I if I don't know when you are going to call?"

"Intuition, Artie. Women like you should have it."

"I'm not a woman, you git."

"If you say so. Bye, Artie."

"Good day, wanker."

Allistor ended the call with a sigh. Stupid brothers, always making him worry like a sissy.  
He supposed he ought to call the other Kirklands before they did something stupid, like Arthur said. He decided to call the second oldest in the family (he himself being the oldest, of course); Patrick, AKA the Republic of Ireland.

"Hey, Patrick. I called Artie."


	3. Chapter 3

Somewhere in Ireland, for who knows where the hell Patrick lives?

The Republic of Ireland was, some would say, the handsomest of the British brothers. (And to be honest, that was saying something. They each looked good in their own way, from Allistor's rugged charm to Arthur's smart, tidy (and rather feminine, but don't tell him that) elegance to Peter's fresh vibrance.) Physically 30, he looked young but still sophisticated. His typical Kirkland eyebrows were still thick, but not ridiculously so, and his hair was dark brown and slightly curly. He had green eyes like the other Kirklands (except for Sealand), but his were sea green instead of the brighter green that was so common among his brothers. His nose was perfectly straight and dusted lightly with freckles. He was well-built, but not intimidatingly so.

He was also arguably the closest to England, relationship-wise. He felt rather guilty about the arguments that they had had many years previously, and also felt guilty about letting Arthur do his work for him as he was his own country, despite his younger brother despairing at his incompetence when it came to the boring paperwork and insisting on doing it.

Needless to say, he felt horribly guilty about Arthur going to Russia without him. When Arthur didn't contact his family for two days straight, he began to worry rather.

When his phone rang, he picked it up immediately, knowing exactly who it was without looking at the screen.

"Allistor."

"Hey, Patrick, I called Artie."

"Well?"

"You're not gonna like this."

"Go on!"

And so Allistor told Patrick everything he himself had been told by the sick Englishman himself.

"I need to see him."

"Yeah, I had been thinking that myself." Allistor replied.

"I'll call Connor, you do Owain."

"And Peter?"

"Since when did Peter care?"

"Peter is what Hungary and Japan would call tsundere."

"Like you, then. Alright, you call him, though."

"Deal."

"Let's meet at yours in... Four hours?"

"Done. Good luck with Connor."

"Have a nice time wiping up Owain's tears."

The brothers hung up, united in something for once.

Kirkland Castle, Scotland  
Three hours later

As the brothers predicted, Owain had burst into tears, Peter had acted uncaring but was secretly panicked, and Connor had cursed his older brother's pride. Now, gathered in Allistor's decadent castle, (having greatly increased their carbon footprints by flying in helicopters and jets to Scotland from wherever else- thank God Japan had found a way to decrease global warming) surrounded by flag-printed duffel bags (they were nations, for crying out loud, they were allowed to be patriotic), the brothers shared a mutual worry for their English brother.

They made an odd family, sharing only one physical feature (it would be two if it weren't for Sealand's bright blue eyes): their bushy eyebrows.  
Peter, the youngest at a physical age of 14, was fairly well-built for a teenager and his hair was blonde like Arthur's and Owain's, yet his eyes were a bright blue and his eyebrows were slightly less large. He was the shortest out of those there, but an inch taller than England.  
Connor, physically 18, had dark reddish-brown hair, shamrock-green eyes and a stocky build.  
If Arthur had been there, he would have made the third youngest of the family at 26, (and the shortest) but the whole point they were together was to visit him in Moscow.  
Owain, at 27, was about a centimetre taller than Sealand, his slim stature similar to but not as feminine as Arthur's. He had messy hair like his English brother that was a few shades darker and a couple of centimetres longer, and his green eyes the colour of weathered jade.  
Patrick, 30 was tall, well-built and dark, which left Allistor; physically 32, tall, bright ginger hair, grassy green eyes and almost as much muscle as Germany.

They looked almost completely different from each other (excepting Owain and Arthur), and they acted that way, as well.  
For instance, although they were all worried for their brother and annoyed at him for hiding his illness from them, but they all expressed it in different ways. Owain was sitting on his duffel, texting Arthur and checking up on him; Allistor was lying on the chaise long in the hall (he was allowed to have a bit of decadence, he had to put up with the UK's many different leaders- or at least, that's what he told himself), blowing rings of smoke from his cigarette. Peter was sitting against his bag, blasting rap music through his headphones and trying to look indifferent; Connor was perched on the end of Allistor's chaise long and scrawling the words "I'm a bloody leprechaun, get the bloody hell over it" in as many different languages as he could remember on his vintage black Converse in a Tippex pen that his Southern brother found in his coat pocket and Patrick himself was pacing in front of his brothers, trying to call for a taxi to take the family to the airport that Allistor kept his jets in.

When he finally succeeded in getting them a ride and the large black car had pulled up in front of the castle, they realised that they hadn't told Arthur or the other nations that they were coming, not had they called their boss(es- plural thanks to Patrick and Peter- well, only kind of in Peter's case).

Owain called Harrington, knowing that he got on best with him out of the family (minus Arthur, of course); Patrick called his boss and explained, which was thankfully well-received, and Allistor called Russia, explained that they were coming and asked for the location of the hospital. He booked the family (and Harrington) into a hotel near to it, knowing that the other nations were staying at Ivan's Sunflower Plaza.

Peter called whatever the hell he had as a government, which was also well-received, thankfully. Not that he would have listened to them if it was not. This led to Connor complaining about how a micro-nation had it's own government and he didn't which made Patrick pause his his conversation with his boss and tell him to become part of the Republic of Ireland with him instead of the United Kingdom. At this, Connor paled slightly and shut up.

Owain sighed and rolled his eyes at his brothers, making Harrington laugh with a passive-aggressive comment about his dysfunctional family.

EMC, Moscow, Russia

"Da, that will be fine. See you later, Scotland~!" Russia smiled and ended his call with Scotland. He decided that he ought to tell China first, who would tell Arthur that his family were visiting. Then he could go and find Matvey and tell the other nations.  
Deciding that it would be quicker to just text Yao, he whipped out his phone.

Ivan Braginsky, 21:43  
Yao, Scotland called to tell me that Arthur's brothers are coming, will you tell him for me, please? I will tell the other nations. Thanks.

Yao Wang, 21:45  
Will do-aru. Thank you.

Ivan Braginsky, 21:46  
It is my pleasure.

Satisfied, Ivan texted his boyfriend.

Ivan Braginsky, 21:48  
Privyet, Matvey~ Could you help me spread the word that Arthur's brothers are coming? It will take me a while if I do it on my own, for my phone doesn't let me do a group text xx

Matthew Williams, 21:50  
Sure, neither does mine. I'll text the Europeans if you do the others, eh? Love you ;)

Ivan Braginsky, 21:51  
Da, that sounds good. Love you too ;D

Ten minutes of texting later, Matthew and Ivan had informed all the nations with them in the hospital that the British (and Irish and Sealandic) brothers were on their way.

Matthew Williams, 18:01  
Meet me outside Arthur's room, eh?

Ivan Braginsky, 18:02  
Da, happily :)

Stuffing his phone in his pocket, Russia all but ran to Arthur's room to find his boyfriend slumped against the wall, head in his hands and shoulders shaking.

"Matvey?" Russia gently pried Canada's hands away from his face, to find those amethyst eyes filled with sparkling crystal tears.

"Why didn't I see? How didn't I see? He's basically my father, and I didn't notice that he's severely ill!" Canada burst out bitterly.

"Matvey," Ivan said softly. "Matvey, it's not your fault. He is well-accustomed to hiding things, he's practically a professional. Not even China noticed. There was no way you could have found out. Now dry your tears, da?"

"But I'm his SON!" Matthew wailed.

"Ssshhh, he might hear you." Ivan put an arm round him.

"I should be able to see these things! I could have prevented this!"

"Nyet. You couldn't have prevented this. There was no way you could have stopped this. Nothing could have stopped Arthur collapsing, it was going to happen anyway. Even if he had used his inhaler it would have just prolonged it, which would have been more dangerous. Thank God he collapsed in the meeting, otherwise Yao would not have been there to resuscitate him. Do not cry, Matvey. It is not wise to cry unnecessarily, da? Your pretty eyes will not thank you." Ivan picked Matthew up, bridal style, and hugged him close, pressing kisses to his soft skin.

"I-Ivan... Je t'aime. Merci."

"I love you, too. And there is nothing to thank me for, Matvey. I am to thank you. If it were not for you, I would still be in the realm of the mentally disturbed. Thanks to you, I may pass as halfway normal." Ivan joked. Matthew responded by running his hands through the silvery-blonde hair, wrapping his legs around Ivan's waist and pressing his lips to the Russian's. Ivan had long since learnt not to fight for dominance- his lover was part French, so there was really no point. Shivers of pleasure ran down his spine and he moaned in pleasure as Matthew's hands wandered southwards.

"YEEEEK! Umm... Sorry, I'll just- uh, uhm..." Russia and Canada broke apart and their heads snapped round to see a very awkward and startled looking Lithuania.

"Toris!" Matthew gasped. "I'm sorry- I didn't- I mean, I was upset and Ivan came and-"

"Ah, Lithuania. No worries, Matvey here was upset so I was just cheering him up!" Russia sang happily, Canada still wrapped around him.

"R-right, well, I just came to give Arthur some books..." He gestured to the heavy-looking messenger bag he was supporting. Quickly brushing past the couple, he darted into the Englishman's room as the two blondes resumed their session of "cheering up".

"So, the entire British Isles plus Sealand are coming to Russia because I fell ill in a meeting? Bloody brilliant. Well, I suppose I did say I didn't care... Oh, hello, Toris!" Arthur turned to see the Baltic nation sprint into his room, blushing furiously. "I say, are you quite alright?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur could see Yao raise an eyebrow at the irony of his words, but he decided to ignore it.

"I-I'm fine, I just happened to stumble upon Russia and Canada in the corridor..." He flushed deeper at the memory. "But I came here with these, I figured that you may run out of things to do. They're mainly in English, but I know you can speak Russian, so I brought some good Russian novels as well... I hope you like them..."  
Arthur himself felt a blush creep onto his pale face, touched at the gesture. He'd never been particularly close to Lithuania- he wasn't even aware that he hadn't gone back to the living quarters of Ivan's sunflower-themed skyscraper. Then again, he did vaguely remember the timid man to have cared for Greece all those centuries ago after the cat-lover managed to get himself into ridiculous amounts of debt... That must be why he went with them. Because I needed medical attention, the green-eyed blonde thought bitterly.

"Thank you. It is very kind of you to think of me, I hope that I can return the gesture in one way or another." Arthur said, shifting a little in his position.

"It is my pleasure, I only ask for you to recover soon." Lithuania replied earnestly, turning to leave again.

"Wait- Toris, do you want to wait in here for a while? I can't imagine that you would want to go through seeing Ivan and Matthew again..." Arthur trailed off, his mind polluted with his half-French son and Russian friend together.

"That is very kind of you, but I shall have to decline, Feliks shall be annoyed if I don't go back to his room soon, he wanted to show me something." Lithuania grimaced while Arthur and Yao winced at the thought.

"Good luck-aru." China spoke for the first time since Lithuania came in.

"Thanks, I think I'll need it."

"Thank you again for the books."

The aforementioned Baltic nation stammered his goodbye and darted out, giving only a slight mortified shriek at the scene outside the room.

Around five hours later

"Ah, look! There's George!" Patrick cried.  
The British Isles (plus Sealand) made their way towards the familiar figure, slightly uncoordinated after their long flight.

"Ah, hello. Good to see you all again." Harrington greeted them politely.

"H-how is Arthur?" Owain stammered out.

"No worse, no better. Did you have a good flight?"

"O-okay, thank you. We almost got lost trying to find the hotel, but in the end it worked out okay." Wales replied quietly. "Is it possible to see Arthur at this time?"

"Yes, of course, some of the other nations are filling in for doctors, so they can't exactly give us restricted visiting times. Follow me, he will most likely be awake still."

The party trailed after their colleague, fatigued but desperate to see their sickly brother. When they got to said brother's room and the politician had gone to the hotel they had kindly booked for him (for he was rather tired, and he had promised Arthur to get some food and rest), they were met by two pairs of purple eyes, both looking up at them in a startled manner.

"Oh, hello... Sorry, we'll move..." The Canadian said, shuffling awkwardly, obviously having been there for a long time.  
The Russian stood up, brushed himself down and helped his partner up and then greeted the other nations as if they had not stumbled across the world's two largest countries asleep in each other's arms.

"Ah, hello! Long time, no see, da? It is good to see you all again!" Russia said sweetly.

"Er, yes, good to see you too, Ivan." Wales replied politely. "And you, Matthew."

"T-thank you..." Canada said, still blushing. "We'll be off, then. It was a pleasure to see you all." He added, gently pulling his boyfriend away.

The brothers looked at each other and walked into the room. They were not quite prepared for what they saw. Whilst it had been a few weeks since they saw each other in person, they didn't remember Arthur having cheekbones quite as sharp as that, and surely he wasn't that pale...

"My, more guests? I'm honoured." Arthur joked weakly, fully aware of his family's shock at his appearance. He set down his iPad and attempted to adjust his position, failing miserably due to a lack of energy.

"Artie? Why the heck have you got more than three IV lines, as well as a feeding tube?" Patrick asked softly.

"Erm... Well, since no one is clear as to what is wrong with me, the doctors decided to give me medicine for things like my asthma, and I am apparently underweight." The blonde said with a slightly bitter smile.

"No shit, Artie. You're skinny as hell." Allistor said bluntly.

"Allistor! Don't be so blunt!" Owain reprimanded, looking close to tears.

"Jerk! You almost died!" Peter huffed.

"Aww, Peter, so sweet of you to care for me so." Arthur teased his youngest brother, earning a tsundere scowl from said micronation.

"In all seriousness, Arthur- and I know Allistor lectured you on this, but I'm just going to reiterate- you really should have told us. In the future, you tell us everything. And you do only half the work. Patrick will do all his paperwork and meetings, and I shall half of the work for the UK, since my paperwork is considerably better than the other two. Not like yours, of course, but it's not as abysmal as Allistor's and Connor's. Okay?" Owain said confidently.

"Fine, whatever. Er, I don't suppose you could pass me my phone? I just realised that it would be a good idea to tell Robert myself, and get him to come to Russia myself as well. I know him a lot better than George does..." Arthur trailed off with a grateful look to the so far quiet Connor, who had just handed him his iPhone that was just that little bit out of his reach.

"Er, who is Robert?" Owain enquired.

"My doctor," He said, looking up from booking flights to Russia on his phone when he felt several pairs of bushy, raised eyebrows aimed at him. "What? Come on, didn't you guess? I told Allistor, surely the rest of you figured it out? With my medical conditions, I would have to be stupid to not have one."

"So... Do you just go to him when you're ill, or do you have to have check-ups and stuff?" Connor asked curiously.

"I go to him at least twice a month for a check-up, sometimes three or four times."

"How the fuck did no one notice?!" Patrick exclaimed.

"I have been hiding this for well over a millennium, you know. I've become rather good at concealing things."

"And I still don't understand why." Allistor said.

"Yao understood..." Arthur trailed off to tap his phone a few more times, contacting his doctor to arrange for a flight to his oldest patient. (Both in age and time that he had been with him.)

"So, why does he need to come to Russia?" Connor enquired once more.

"He's the only doctor in practice who knows that I am not human."

"You make us sound like aliens..." Patrick teased.

"Well, we are aliens compared to the average human, aren't we?" Arthur retorted.

"I suppose..."

"Anyway, how are all of you?"

"We're fine." They chorused.

"Hey, Peter, do you want to find Berwald and Tino? They won't be too far away, and it has been months since you saw them." Arthur suggested, seeing the (supposed) teenager look uncomfortably at his mass of drips, tubes and wires.

"Y-yeah, t-thanks, y-you j-jerk..." Peter stammered, scared shitless (as America would say) by the sheer amount of medical equipment his brother was hooked up to, and he couldn't help but notice that for the entire time they had been there, the beeping of the heart monitor was distinctly faster than his own pulse. Perhaps he should send one of the Nordics in...

Peter left the room in search of his surrogate parents and a medically trained nation to make sure that Arthur's heart wasn't beating too fast, leaving the green-eyed nations behind.

"So, Artie, how long d'you reckon you're gonna be in here for?" Patrick enquired.

"Here, as in Moscow? However long it takes for my body to recover enough so that I am fit to travel to England."

"And how long might that take?"

"I really don't know. Usually when I'm ill it only lasts about a week, but I haven't stopped breathing before."

"Arthur, you'd better fucking get better soon." Allistor said dangerously.

"Of course I will." Arthur said nervously, knowing full well he was probably lying. He wasn't going to recover quickly, he was sure of that. Whether or not he was going to recover at all... Well, he wasn't really sure of that one.

"A-arthur? Arthur! Arthur!?" He was jolted out of his thoughts by Owain's soft Welsh accent.

"Yes?" He said slightly faintly.

"Your heart... It's really fast..."

"A-ah... That's not good..." He realised that his heart was, indeed, very fast. Faster than usual, and his pulse was generally quite fast for some reason. Perhaps that could explain why he felt so... Tired... Like he could just... Pass out.

Owain's stomach lurched in panic as he slammed his hand down on the button by Arthur's bed, calling either a nation or a doctor. (It didn't really matter which; a medically trained nation was of the same skill as a doctor, but perhaps a shade faster at their work.) He himself had very basic training, but he wasn't as good as the others, by any means. He bit his lip, assessing the situation and putting his brother in the recovery position. At the moment, he shouldn't need CPR... But his breathing was laboured...  
Owain saw an oxygen mask by the bed and snatched it up, placing it gently over Arthur's pale face. Hopefully someone would come soon...

The other brothers watched in shock, horror and awe as their Welsh sibling sprung into action as their English one lost consciousness.

"Arthur!"

Finland, Sweden and Norway ran into the room. "Peter told Berwald that Arthur's heartbeat was really fast, and then we were called here anyway..." Finland explained distractedly, taking a syringe from Sweden. "Wow, Wales, you did a very good job reacting to the situation. Does anyone know why he passed out again?"

"No, he just sort of... Lost consciousness. But his heart was really fast." Owain answered for his brothers, for it was clear that they had been shocked into silence. "Unless..." He trailed off, very much disliking his possible diagnosis.

"Unless he has an arrhythmia alongside the rest of his conditions." Norway said bluntly.

"Don't be so bl'nt, Lukas." Sweden reprimanded the platinum blonde.

"My apologies. Although there is no point in denying it, it seems that way. I have noticed that his pulse is often fast."

"And how would you know what his pulse is like?" Finland asked as he straightened up, satisfied with his work on the ill nation.

"I hear it. Obviously. Don't tell me that you don't have abnormally good hearing, too, I know all the Nordics do." Norway replied, adjusting a tube and injecting another drug into the Englishman's arm carefully. "But I do not think it is anything to worry about, it is very unlikely that he will be seriously affected by it."

"How are you so sure about this?" A guilty look flashed across the Norwegians's usually emotionless face.

"Well... I've never told anyone but my doctor and government this, but... I'm like Arthur. I didn't know that I wasn't the only one until he collapsed." The entire room (minus the unconscious Englishman) looked at Lukas in incredulity.

"...Lukas! Why the HELL did you keep this to yourself?!" Finland yelled at him.

"Same reason as Arthur, I expect. Telling someone is like admitting defeat to the illnesses; it's easier to just ignore them. I have the same sorts of illnesses as Arthur, a few less, perhaps. I know I have arrhythmia, like him; I had surgery for it a few times, in fact. My doctor would have you know I nearly died from it, but I disagree. I have a few less allergies, acid reflux and lactose intolerance where he is gluten and dairy intolerant; I don't have anaemia, but I do have asthma." For a few minutes, the room was in silence.

"...Lukas?" In the doorway of Arthur's room stood Denmark, a heartbroken look on his face. "Lukas, you... You nearly died? You had surgery? (Is it even possible for a nation to have surgery? Surely we heal too fast?) W-when was this?" Norway winced, for once showing his emotions.

"Shit," He cursed, "I wasn't planning on telling you that."

"B-but... Why weren't you going to tell me? Don't you trust me?" Denmark said, uncharacteristically nervous.

"I trust you, Matthias, I just... didn't want to worry you. The last was about a year ago. And yes, we do heal too fast for surgery. In general. But I don't heal as fast. Faster than a human, but... Not as fast as you." Lukas said whilst rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"So... It's a little late to ask, but... How did the surgery go?"

"Idiot, if it had gone badly, he wouldn't be here, would he?" Connor snapped out of his silence to say.

"Well... Actually..." Every conscious head in the room snapped up at those two words. "It didn't really go badly, but it didn't... Work."

"Wait... So you still suffer from an irregular heart rhythm?" Denmark asked his boyfriend.

"Yes. I do." Lukas took Matthias' hand and placed it over his own wrist. "See? But it's not necessarily life-threatening. Just... Inconvenient."

The pulse under the Dane's fingertips scared him. How did he not notice that his lover's heart fluttered like a frantic bird? Lukas could die from it, and he had had no idea. That terrified him. Wait a second... "Surely if you had surgery, you have scars? Why didn't I see them?"

"They don't look too different to our normal scars, but... Neater." The Norwegian lifted his shirt to reveal (a slim, delicate build and) the scars a nation unavoidably has from natural disasters and wars (although considerably less than the other nations in the room), and then, quite faint but still noticeable, much neater cuts running straight down his chest. "But as I was saying, arrhythmia isn't particularly dangerous for whatever Arthur and I can be classified as. Sure, my doctor tried to cure it, but it's not nearly as dangerous to me as it is to a human. I just have to take medicine for it, like I do the rest of it." He let his shirt cover his chest again.

"But, Lukas... You're always at the gym, or skiing, or doing something else which a person with numerous medical conditions is told not to do." Finland said, confused.

"When I'm at the gym, all I do is swim because it was recommended to me by my doctor. And as for skiing, well, if I take large amounts of medicine before I do it, I am able to. Nothing can stop me from going skiing." The Norwegian replied simply. "Oh, Arthur is waking up!"

A/N

It physically pains me to post stuff as crappy as this.


	4. Chapter 4

As his sleepy haze lifted for a second time, Arthur felt a sense of deja vu. Yes, he was in the same hospital bed, with the same oxygen mask just obstructing his vision... But the people were different. This time, in place of the hyper Italian, quiet Canadian and shy Japanese man were some Scandinavians (going by the hair) and four of his brothers. Wow, his room was crowded.

Seeing that he was awake, three of the aforementioned Nordics started to gently check him over.

"Arthur, you passed out again." One of the blondes told him. Norway, perhaps? "We think that you have cardiac arrhythmia, but it really isn't as serious as it sounds."

Summoning up the energy to pull off the mask again, Arthur looked into the ice-blue eyes of his friend of countless years, Lukas Bondevik.  
"Bloody hell, Lukas. I only just woke up, and you're telling me that I have a life-threatening heart condition?" He said incredulously.

"I won't reprimand you for taking off your mask right now, for I know that you can't see over it. And yes, I am telling you that you have a heart condition (but surely you knew that your heart was fast?), but it's not life threatening. (Especially since yours clearly isn't as bad as mine was.) I can assure you that." Norway replied.

"And how are you so sure? And what do you mean, it isn't as bad as yours was?"

"I'm like you, Arthur. I'm more humane than the others."

It took a second for the words to sink in.  
"You're... Like me?" Arthur said softly.

"I'm like you." The silvery blonde confirmed. "Not quite the same, for instance I don't have anaemia, but I do have acid reflux. I have arrhythmia, too- that's how I know that it (probably) isn't going to kill you."

"S-so, I'm not the only one?"

"No. But as far as I know, there are only two of us."

"Lukas," Finland cut in. "Could you get your doctor to come to Russia? I think it would be a good idea for them to share their knowledge on your conditions. I know Arthur was bringing his out here- here's your iPhone back, by the way- and I think it would be a good idea if you did the same."

"Will do," The Norwegian said, bringing out his own iPhone, "Although, Aleksander doesn't speak English."

"Not a problem, Robert is half Norwegian." Arthur said weakly.

"That's convenient. Okay, he says he can come tomorrow; he has cleared his schedule for a while. I don't know if- ah!" Lukas cried out in pain as he dropped his phone and pressed a hand to his chest, eyes closed in pain and his skin rapidly going from pale to simply colourless.

"Lukas? Lukas! What's wrong?" Denmark said worriedly.

"In my bag... There's a syringe... Grab it for me, will you?" The platinum blonde asked breathlessly. Sweden, being the one nearest said bag, swiftly took it out and quickly injected the contents into the Norwegian's arm himself. Lukas took several minutes to recover, leaning completely against the Swedish man who had rushed to support him once the syringe had been emptied into the Norwegian's bloodstream.

"Th-thanks... That's why he tried to cure it, I had to learn to do that myself if it happened when no-one was around. That's also why I always have my bag with me." Lukas stammered uncharacteristically.

"Lukas, what just happened?" Sweden asked gently.

"His heart was slowing, he's right. We can hear people's hearts. His heart was slowing down." Finland said.

"Slowing down?!" Denmark yelled, panicked.

"Come on, you three, we should find Peter." Owain said softly, leading his brothers out of the room quietly.

"Yes, my heart was slowing down, not just to a normal speed, but slower. The medicine in that syringe that Berwald injected into my arm stopped it from slowing right down and stopping." Lukas said weakly.

"And that could happen to me?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, it could. But you just saw that it can be easily prevented." The Norwegian replied.

"My god, Lukas! You just almost went into cardiac arrest! Your heart almost stopped beating! And you're just saying that it can be 'easily prevented'!" Finland lost his usual calm air and faced his friend.

"Calm down, Tino. I'm fine. I haven't died yet, have I? I've survived for millenniums so far, I'm sure I can last a few more. And you're probably scaring Arthur, so stop." Lukas said, his usual emotionless mask back in place.

"You know Emil's going to freak when he finds out, right?" Denmark asked.

"Yes, I know. I'm sure he'll understand in the end, though." Lukas replied, looking considerably paler than usual.

"For god's sake, Lukas, lie down. You look awful." Arthur told him.

"Look who's talking, at least I'm not underweight." He retorted, but sliding down the wall he was leaning against to rest anyway.

"Let's face it, you're both ridiculously ill, neither of you should be doing anything and both of you have something to tell someone you know is going to react badly to it." Finland said.

"I'm not as ill as he is, cut me some slack."

"Fuck! Francis! Damn it! How the hell am I going to explain this to him?! He doesn't even know I'm unwell, he has been 'grounded' by his boss!" Arthur exclaimed.

"One, Lukas. Seriously. Your heart nearly stopped. Maybe you aren't underweight, or anaemic, or whatever else Arthur is that you aren't, but when someone is on the verge of cardiac arrest, that is generally classified as severely ill. Two, is that why France wasn't at the meeting, Arthur? What the hell did he do to not be let out of his country, even for work?" The Finn said to the two ill nations.

"Yes, that is why he wasn't there. And I don't even know myself what he did. It was something to do with a credit card, I think." The green-eyed Briton said.

The rest of the room (minus the stoic Swede) winced at his words. They could only imagine what France could do with a credit card to be refused a trip for business.

"So he has no idea that you're ill at all? Duuuude... That sucks..." Denmark said.

"Thank you for stating the obvious. My god... Francis is going to go crazy... He basically started crying when I tripped over his poodle..." Arthur thought out loud.

"You and Lukas are so similar... Tsundere birds of a feather..." The Dane said in an undertone.

"And you are just like America." Arthur replied smugly.

"I have no problem with that. Al's cool."

"Yep... So similar... Should I call Francis? Or tell his boss and have him come over here?" Arthur asked the room at large.

"No point in building up his carbon footprint; just tell him over the phone. He'll insist on coming anyway." Lukas advised him.

"Okay. Pass me my phone, Finland? Thanks." The Englishman tapped his phone a few times and put it to his ear, quickly slipping into the French that barely anyone knew that he could speak.

"Francis? C'est moi."

Paris, France

"Francis? It's me." A lightly accented voice met his ear.

"Arthur! Dear, why didn't you call sooner? I was worried sick! What happened? And why on earth can I hear a beeping in the background?" Francis said dramatically, slipping into French himself.

"A-ah, well..." Arthur said, rather guiltily, if you asked Francis.

"Arthur? What have you done now, my love?" He said cautiously.

"I-I have to tell you something... You won't like it..." The Englishman said nervously.

"Go on."

"I-I may have, erm, collapsed in a meeting."

Francis bit his lip. "I'm sorry? Did I just hear you say that you, a nation, collapsed?"

"N-no... I, a person, collapsed. The UK is fine. I am... not."

"Arthur. We don't collapse. What are you talking about?" Francis said, not understanding what his lover was saying.

"I do. I can collapse, apparently, because I did." Arthur replied.

"Explain. Now."

Arthur proceeded to explain about how he and Norway weren't as strong as the rest of the nations, deliberately missing out the exact number of medical conditions he had and the part where Lukas nearly died from an illness that he, himself also had. As it was, the Frenchman was in tears of worry for his husband. And he would soon work out that the beeping in the background was, in fact, Arthur's heart monitor and that it was about twice the speed it should be.

"A-arthur... My love... Why did you not tell me?"

"Telling is accepting. Accepting is admitting defeat." Arthur said bluntly.

"My god... Arthur, you are an idiot." Francis sobbed.

"And you are completely overreacting, love."

"I just found out that my husband isn't immortal like I am! I'm allowed to overreact, my love!" He cried.

"I might be immortal, I don't know. It's too dangerous to try."

"Wait, so you've never died before?" Francis enquired.

"No. I've always known I wasn't as strong as the rest of you, so I played it carefully in wars, etcetera. The worst I've ever been hurt was when I was wounded by that rocket all those years ago."

"Wow... And Lukas has never died, either?" He said incredulously.

"I don't think so... I'll ask him." Francis waited while Arthur slipped back into English (he could speak Norwegian as well, but he naturally spoke English around the Scandinavians since their English was better than some of the native speakers... *cough* America *cough*) and put his question to the platinum blonde. A response came back which Francis could barely hear, but he caught the tone. The Frenchman was shocked to hear the Norwegian speak in such a weak tone, devoid of his usual iciness. It was definitely Norway replying, though. There wasn't anyone else that Francis knew of that could speak in a monotone all the time, without fail.

"No, he hasn't. The closest he came was a skiing accident."

"Love, why did Norway sound so tired? And what the hell is that beeping?" Francis asked, really quite annoyed with the high-speed noise in the background.

"Lukas is... Ill. Not like me, but he's been ill for a while. As a result of that, he is tired." His husband said hesitantly, as if withholding something.

"And the beeping?"

"That... That is my heart monitor."

"Your... Heart... But... Eh?!" Francis said intelligently.

"You sound like Matthew."

"But... The beeping is at least twice the speed of a heartbeat."

"I suppose I may as well tell you," Arthur sighed. "I have an irregular heart rhythm. My heart beats faster than normal. Quite a bit faster, actually. Around 120 beats per minute, at the moment."

"Oh, my... I think I understand. You and Norway both suffer from this, and the reason Norway sounded so tired was that his heart was playing up. You could both die from this, and I can't do a single thing about it. God, this is terrible." Francis inferred. He sighed heavily and with the air of someone who had seen too many of life's horrors, and was currently experiencing the worst.

"Francis, love. I will be fine. Lukas' doctor and my doctor are meeting here in Russia tomorrow to try and work out what they can do. They will work something out together."

"Love, you have a doctor?" The blue-eyed blonde asked warily.

"I would be crazy not to. Where else would I get the medicine for my various illnesses from?"

"God, you have no idea how much you are making me worry, Arthur. You've practically turned my hair grey with this conversation."

"I try." Arthur said smoothly.

"You had better not. Feel better soon, or else. And give Norway my best, as well. Goodnight, my love. I love you more than you can imagine." Francis said passionately.

"Good night, dear. I love you, too."

Arthur sighed and put down his phone. He hated making Francis worry. Despite the amount of time they spent arguing, he did adore the frog and knew that he was loved passionately back.

"Wow, Arthur, I had no idea that you were fluent in French." Finland said.

"Not many people do." He replied.

"...I'm sorry?"

Arthur then realised that he had replied in French, and that the Scandinavians did not speak the frog's language. "I'm sorry, I forgot myself. I said not many people do."

"What else do you speak?" Denmark said, interested.

"A lot of languages. When I'm ill, my boss won't let me work, so I spend my time doing something useful. At the moment, I'm trying to learn Ainu, but I don't have WiFi here like I do at home so I can't right now." Arthur replied tiredly.

"Hmm... That's interesting... My boss doesn't let me work, either, but I spend my time reading instead. So, do you speak Norwegian?"

"Ja. Selvfølgelig." Arthur replied in perfect Norwegian.

"Det er utrolig. Uttalen er perfekt." Lukas responded.

"Takk." Arthur said.

"Puhutko suomea?" Finland asked in his native language.

"Kyllä. Kyllä, minä."

"Og dansk?" Denmark asked interestedly.

"Selvfølgelig!" Arthur replied. "Och svenska." He said to the tallest blonde in Swedish.

"Du talar en massa språk." Sweden responded.

"As I said, I learn them when I'm ill. And that is quite a common occurrence." Arthur said in English.

"How many do you speak altogether?" Asked Lukas, still weakly.

"I've lost count."

"Wow," Finland said. "I'm especially surprised that you can speak Finnish, it's so different to English!"

"It was a lot easier to learn than Thai, I can assure you." Arthur replied. "What do you lot speak?"

"We speak each other's languages (and that's including Iceland), and also Russian, English and German. And Japanese, of course."

"That's quite a lot, as well."

"Yes, but nowhere near as many as you." Lukas pointed out.

"Lukas, I think you're the one who needs to be in a hospital, not me. You're paler than Prussia." Arthur said gently, looking at the platinum blonde hunched against the wall, breathing heavily and with one thin hand pressed against his chest.

"I-I'm fine. Er... You don't mind if I use my inhaler, do you?" The Norwegian said quietly.

"Why would we?"

Lukas reached for his satchel, drawing out an object that was beyond familiar to Arthur and rather unfamiliar to the other nations. They knew what it was, of course, but to them it seemed like yesterday that it was invented. To Arthur and Lukas, it was a lifesaving force that they were beyond grateful for and quite literally couldn't live without.

"A-ahhh." He sighed in relief.

"Better?"

"Much. Gud, I don't envy you with more conditions than me."

"It's not so bad. I have more allergies and intolerances than you, which means that almost everything I eat is ridiculously bland, but apart from that it's just the anaemia which isn't too bad. I get the feeling that the arrhythmia is only going to get worse, though."

"Well, for me, it took a few flatlines and a lot of medicine for mine to improve to something controllable, but mine was worse to begin with."

Arthur furrowed his brow as Denmark paled at the thought of his boyfriend flatlining.

"What do you mean? What happened?" The Briton asked.

"Did I not tell you how I found out I had it in the first place? It was a few centuries ago, I was skiing. I didn't notice that my pulse was racing, because when I'm on the slopes (unless I take copious amounts of medicine) my heart speeds up anyway. I collapsed on the mountain and it stopped. Because I'm an expert skier- I don't mean to be conceited, but I'm the personification of Norway, for crying out loud, of course I'm an expert at it- I always attract crowds, so someone found me immediately and resuscitated me. After that, I was taken to a hospital and was there for about three months, flatlining about twice each month." Lukas said bluntly.

"Three months? Wow, the most I've been in was one month."

"We have meetings at least once a month. How did no-one notice that you were gone? The amount of meetings you two must miss!" Finland said, confused.

"We're not the only ones who miss meetings. And every time I'm too ill to attend a meeting, George calls whoever is hosting it to tell them that the meeting clashes with one of our own." Arthur said, Lukas nodding slightly in agreement.

"Wait... So all the times that Germany said that you were with your boss, you were ill?"

"Of course, I send the dates of meetings to George and he plans around them. It was the same for the last five Prime Ministers I've had, and before that it was usually just me being unwell." Arthur replied.

"Same for me." Lukas agreed.

"My god, just how ill are the pair of you?!"

"I really wish I knew the answer, Tino." Lukas sighed.

"Seconded." Agreed Arthur.

"Dritt! Arthur, you haven't told your king!" Lukas realised.

"Damn it! I promised to keep him informed, too!" Arthur exclaimed, picking up his phone again. "Text or call? They know I get ill often, so text, perhaps?"

"I'd text if I were you." Lukas advised.

"Will do." Long, thin fingers danced over the LCD screen, tapping out a text to the young British monarch.

"That'll do. They don't know that I'm not technically meant to get ill and they know I get ill often, so they won't worry too much if I just say I am unwell." Arthur said, satisfied.

"Are you going to tell them?" Lukas asked him.

"Not until I get back to England."

"Good idea. You know, you should sleep. You've been awake for hours."

"Look who's talking. I would, but I can't get to sleep without pills, and Yao only brought enough to knock me out for a few hours."

"Here, I have some. I can never sleep, either."

All through this, the other Scandinavians looked very awkward.  
Denmark was worried sick for his boyfriend (and slightly for Arthur, too; England was actually one of his favourite nations- the Danes generally speak brilliant English, after all), Finland's kind nature was taking a beating with the amount of unfairness in the situation, and even Sweden was showing his worry for both of the sick nations.

They were also slightly confused as to how the two most famously tsundere nations were so friendly towards each other. Sure, they were pretty close friends before they found out about each other's illnesses, but since Arthur woke up and Lukas' arrhythmia made an appearance, the two had been most out of character. The three healthy blondes in the room supposed that it was a result of finding out that you weren't the only one suffering for centuries with something you don't even understand.

Still, it was quite unnerving to see the two of the world's most cryptic nations offer each other sleeping pills and comfort.


	5. Chapter 5

Seven hours later  
Buckingham Palace, London, England

"Your Majesty, I have your phone... You have a text." Your Majesty. Arthur would never get used to being called that.

"Thank you... Who is it from?" He questioned.

"Mr. Kirkland, Your Majesty."

Finally. He had been starting to worry. The man for which he had been named had been acting rather out of character; Arthur (Kirkland) had promised to keep him updated on the week of meetings in Russia, and had been doing a fine job until two days ago, when he stopped texting Arthur (Windsor).

Arthur Kirkland, 01:13  
Sorry about the time. Just to let you know why I haven't been in touch for so long. I fell ill during one of the meeting and was asleep until a few hours ago. I may not be home for a while, but please don't worry.  
-Arthur

The young King tilted his head, confused as he read the time at which he was sent the message. Why the hell was Arthur texting him at one in the morning? And with the time difference... What happened to the blonde's rule of staying up no later than midnight for his health? As he read on, he began to understand. When Arthur was ill, all his routines were thrown out of the window. He got sleep only when he could, he skipped meals, he wore the same clothes for days on end... The list went on. Poor chap, he seemed awfully delicate for a personification of a nation. His husband seemed to never fall ill, nor any of the other nations that he had met.

Arthur (or Art, as he was to his closer friends, but King Art just didn't sound the same as King Arthur, so Art remained an informal nickname) ran a hand through his jet-black hair and tried not to worry about his oldest (age and history together) friend, like he was told. In all of his 28 years, the blonde had been falling ill and recovering quickly. Every single time, he had worried about him. Every single time, Arthur (Kirkland) had made a full recovery.

He just hoped that this time was the same.

EMC, Moscow

"Artieee~ Your brothers are scaring me, make them stop! Huh? Artie? Why is there a strange person sleeping on the floor?" America ran into the room loudly- as everything he does is.

Arthur sighed. America was so clueless sometimes.  
"It's Arthur. Keep your voice down, Lukas is sleeping. Don't listen to my brothers. And it's not a strange person, you git, it's Lukas! Norway!" He whispered.

"Huh? Norway? Where's that? And why is he sleeping on your floor? Why is he sleeping, anyway? It's nearly afternoon!" America said, doing his version of whispering. (Talking loudly, as opposed to shouting loudly.)

"Scandinavia, you wanker! Europe! He's tired! And like you can talk, you sleep until afternoon nearly every day!"

"Europe? Like you and Francy-Pants? And I wake up at eight-thirty sharp, every day, thank you very much!"

"Mmm-hmm. Because Kiku takes you running."

"Losing weight plus seeing him in a tight t-shirt and sweatpants equals a hero's place." America said confidently.

"Good grief, man. Just tell him that you're in love with him." Arthur said wearily.

"I caaaan't! What if he rejects me? What if he doesn't love me back? What if he's in love with China? What if he's straaaaaaight?!" America wailed.

"Sssh! You'll wake Lukas up!" The Norwegian started to stir. "Just whisper! He's really tired and needs his sleep!"

"But why is he on the floor? There are chairs in the waiting room, and we found others dotted around. And he has a bed back at the commie bastard's meeting room."

"He fell asleep there, and I can't exactly get out of bed, can I? And he's leaning on quite a few bags. He could be worse off."

"Yeah, but why didn't his brothers move him?"

"Emil? Iceland? That's non-plural. And he went to find his boyfriend."

"Iceland? Where the fuck is that? I meant Matthias and the scary dude and the Christmas dude. They're Scandiwhatsitian, as well, right?"

"Denmark, Sweden and Finland aren't related, you git! Sweden and Finland are married, it would be incest!"

"That didn't worry you and I, Mommy, or Mattie and Francy-Pants. Ooooh, or me and Mattie. He's goooood in bed..."

"Don't be so cheeky, you wanker."

"Anyways, why didn't Nor- Nor- Norwich? Why didn't his friends come and move him? He doesn't look very heavy, he has the same kind of build as you."

Arthur winced slightly at the last part. "Norwich is one of my cities, you git! His name is Norway! And I told you, he's tired. They didn't want to wake him up."

"He's that tired? Wow, what was he doing last night?"

"That's for him to know and for you to only find out if he wants you to. We were all up late."

"Artiieeeeeee~ Don't be so boring!" America pouted.

"Act your age, Alfred. No-one would ever believe me if I told them that you were over one thousand years old. Not even humans who know what we are. You act like a five-year-old. Honestly, Peter is more mature than you are. And he is physically still a teenager, while you are twenty-two."

"Artieee~ So mean!" Alfred whined.

"Alfred," Arthur imitated. "So immature."

"Kjeft..." The platinum blonde groaned from the makeshift bed against the wall. "Jeg sov."

"Artie, what's he saying?" America asked, confused.

"Beklager, Lukas." Arthur said.

"Artieee! What the fuck? Speak English! And since when did you speak more than one language?!"

"Well, for a start, I've always spoken decent French, Alfred, but I became fluent in it and a lot of other languages when I started falling ill regularly. And that was about... One and a half thousand years ago?"

"...So how many languages do you speak?"

"I've lost count." Arthur said simply.

"Wow, so can you speak... Hungarian?"

"Természetesen tudom, te idióta." He replied.

"That sounded... Weird. What did you just say?"

"Of course I can, idiot."

"Hey! I'm not an idiot, I'm a hero!"

"Kan du holde kjeft? Jeg prøver å sove!" Lukas groaned loudly.

"Vi beklager, Lukas. Men du vet, det er elleve." Arthur replied.

"Dude, English! Please!"

"Eleven?! I slept for six hours? That's the longest I've slept in a month!" Lukas switched to English, feebly pushing himself upright.

"Oh! I recognise you now! You're Matthias' boyfriend!" America realised.

"America." Lukas said, nodding his head curtly in greeting.

"Dude, you know that six hours isn't all that amazing, right?"

"Yes, I do, but it's amazing for me. I find sleeping difficult."

"Ah, dude. That sucks. I feel for you, man."

"...Much appreciated?"

"So, why were you so tired, dude?"

"Alfred! You don't ask people things like that!" Arthur reprimanded.

"He may as well know. If I tell Emil, he'll tell Hong Kong, who'll tell China, who'll tell Japan, who would tell America anyway. The news will spread."

"What are you talking about, dude?"

"Arthur isn't the only one with medical conditions. I have them, too. And last night, one of them started playing up, which made me tired."

"So there are two of you? Well, at least you got each other to relate to."

"That was surprisingly thoughtful, Alfred. But it's 'have', not 'got'."

"Do I look like I care? So, Nor... Nor- Norway? Did I get it right? Are you okay? What happened? Do you want somewhere more comfortable to sleep? There are some chairs not far away, but I think that the last time I went there, Mattie and the commie bastard were in them 'comforting each other'."

"Yes, you did say my name right. I'm fine, thank you. I have an irregular heartbeat, and it occasionally slows a little more than it should. I am fine sleeping here, thank you."

"Wow, Matthias said you were kinda tsundere, but you seem really nice to me, dude." America said enthusiastically.

"When I hide my illnesses, I also have to hide the pain that they give me, and keeping it bottled up can make me hot-headed and, well, in your words, tsundere." Lukas said patiently, slightly out of breath. He didn't mind talking about himself to this excitable nation, he reminded him of his Danmark.

"Lukas, your breathing is really heavy. You should use your inhaler." Arthur advised.

"Y-yeah. America, you don't mind...?"

"No, of course not! Why would I? Just use the inhaler."  
Lukas delved into his satchel and brought out his inhaler again.

"Thanks. That is so much better." He sighed. "It seems almost worse than usual. I hope it's not. I don't particularly want to be the second nation hospitalised."

"God, you two have it rough. How the hell did you manage to hide it from the rest of us?" America asked, feeling sorry for the usually tsundere nations.

"We never took medicine in front of the rest of you, gave believable excuses for our absence in meetings, only told a few people about it-"

"We were careful with what we ate, tried not to overdo it when we were with the rest of you so that it was unlikely we would be ill around you-"

"But I still managed to overwork myself and collapse in front of the rest of you... Not to mention Matthew noticing my conditions..."

"So did I, but thankfully no-one noticed. I didn't collapse, but it was just after the first surgery and the same thing happened then as it did last night. I still don't know how no-one saw me whip out the syringe."

"How did we not notice each other? We knew what to look for, so how did we not see each other's illnesses?"

"We were too wrapped up in hiding it from the others."

"True."

America just stood and stared at the pair. "How the hell did you manage that and your work?!"

"My boss doesn't give me that much work, to be honest." Lukas said.

"I don't really have any hobbies, so I spend the time that you may spend playing video games and Lukas skiing working. I'm either ill, working or with Francis." Arthur explained.

"Do you still practice black magic?" Lukas asked him, sapphire eyes glinting mischievously.

"Of course! And you?"

"Do you even need to ask?"

"Oh, no. I forgot that Norway was your magical buddy..." America sighed.

"And Romania. Don't forget Romania." Arthur said.

"What happened to Romania?" America asked.

"He passed away... Hit by a terrible storm and it destroyed him, poor chap. He was always a little... Delicate... As a... Person... My god... Lukas..."

The realisation hit them like one of Lukas' trolls.

"Well, now we know why it's only us... But why should having magical abilities mean that we are weaker?" Lukas asked.

"Some of our physical strength is replaced with magical strength, I expect. There isn't anyone else who can see them, is there?"

"No, it's just us two. Wait, America, you can see them on Halloween, can't you?" Lukas asked.

"Yeah, hazily for about three minutes. It's terrifying. But I've never gotten ill, except for nation-related things."

"Well, since it's hazy and only for three minutes, that would make sense. But are you sure that you don't have any slight allergies or anything? It doesn't mean you're like us, but it would prove the theory." Arthur said.

"Umm... Oh! I have slight hay fever in the summer, does that count?" America remembered.

"Yes! It does. Apart from us, none of the nations have hay fever. But we know that you are a normal nation, because you've died about a hundred times, and you've never even missed a single meeting."

"So it's definitely just you two who are all weak and stuff." America confirmed.

"Unless you can think of someone else who can do and see magic." Lukas said.

"Nope, just you two weirdoes."

"Thank you for that, dear Alfred. Must we remind you that you are able to see magic, as well?" Arthur said to him.

"Yeah, but for like, three minutes each year. I'm a hero, not a wizard thing. Duh."

"If you say so." Lukas said breathlessly.

"Lukas! Use your inhaler!" Arthur reprimanded him.

"Yes, Mother." The Norwegian said sarcastically, but whipped the little blue object out of his pocket anyway. "It really is worse than usual. Speaking of, when was your doctor arriving again?"

"Around one. Yours?"

"In about fifteen minutes. I should go." He made to stand up, but was suddenly pushed back down by a strong hand.

"No way, dude. You're ill, and a hero never lets a sick person overdo it. You're staying here with Iggy. What does this guy look like?" America said firmly.

"If you insist. He's 41. Average height, average weight, hair slightly darker than mine, brushed back into a style like Austria's (he's Germany's cousin, the man with the piano), but with several little loose curls instead of one, similar colouring to me (but not quite as pale- he's not ill, unlike me), light violet-blue eyes, glasses. He'll probably be wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a light purple tie. And black jeans. He always has the same bag; a simple black messenger bag with my flag in the bottom-left corner. (My flag is a red background with a blue cross outlined in white which is slightly to the left, like my hair slide.) Oh, and he doesn't speak English."

Alfred paused for a moment before replying, building a picture of the man in his head. "Wow, seriously detailed, dude! How can you remember that much about a person? And what other languages does he speak?"

"Well, if you saw someone at least twice a month (in a good month) for over twenty years straight, you would be able to do the same. And he speaks Russian, do you speak that?" Lukas replied.

"I suppose... And... Well... Yes, I do speak Russian." Alfred shifted uncomfortably as Arthur burst out laughing.

"You speak Russian?! Oh, the irony! My God! That is the best I've heard all year!" Arthur panted, in hysterics at the news.

"Calm down, Arthur. Laughter isn't the best medicine in our case. And I don't see what's so funny." Lukas frowned.

"The Cold War, Lukas! The rivalry between Russia and America! The so-called 'commie bastard' and the self-proclaimed hero at each other's throats for centuries until Matthew calmed Ivan down! And then, Alfred was always against Ivan not just for the ancient feud but for 'corrupting his brother's innocence'! (Not that Matthew had much innocence anyway, he's part French, after all!) And Alfred speaks Russian! The irony!" He laughed, coughing between laughs.

"Seriously, Arthur, calm down before I have to call Tino. I can't do much for you myself right now. And you speak French, don't you? Going by the fact that you're trying to learn an almost extinct Asian dialect now, I'm guessing that French was your second or third language, and that you learnt it before you realised that you loved France, and stopped hating him. Am I correct? Oh, and America, his name is Dr. Christensen."

"I-I'm going to go now... Thanks, Norway. Bye, Artie!" Alfred said hastily.

"Wait, one question: Does Matthew know?" Arthur shot at him, calming his laughter a little. At Alfred's slight shake of his head, though, his efforts were lost.

"D-don't tell him, though! Please! He'd never let it go!" The American pleaded. Arthur shook his head, a hand clasped over his mouth, trying to quell his laughter. Alfred gave him a last pleading look and turned on his heel to meet the doctor and brush up on his Russian that he took absolutely no pleasure in speaking. Why he ever decided to learn it, he could never remember. And then he took it to fluency... Why? Still, a hero helps those in need and Nor... Norfolk? No, part of Arthur again. Nor... Norway, that was it! Norway was certainly in no condition to be running after his doctor. So if Alfred must speak Russian in order to be a hero, he would. No matter how much it pained him to do so.

Around four hours later  
EMC, Moscow

Arthur, Lukas and their doctors were all sitting (well, in Lukas' case, slouching due to lack of energy and in Arthur's case, lying down because he simply couldn't get up due to the mass of equipment he was hooked up to and his own lack of energy) in Arthur's room, three out of the four on chairs that Alfred had somehow found from nowhere after Robert had spent about half an hour alone with Arthur, checking him over and adjusting the drips, tubes and wires to make them more effective and comfortable for the blonde. They conversed in Norwegian due to Dr. Christensen's lack of English and Dr. Nilsen's lack of Russian.

"So, you think you are aware of why you get ill so often." Robert said, slightly disbelievingly. He ran a hand through his light brown hair, concerned for his eldest (by around two thousand years) patient and friend.

"They don't believe us, do they, Lukas? You sadden me, Robert, with your lack of faith in the magical arts." Arthur teased.

"Why don't we demonstrate?" Lukas suggested, a mischievous glint in his ice-blue eyes.

"Do you have your wand? Have you enough energy?"

"Of course I have my wand! It's my most powerful weapon! And just a little spell won't hurt me."

"What do you plan to do?" Asked Arthur, racking his brains for a simple spell that could demonstrate their powers.

"The first spell that Harry Potter learnt in his Charms class should do it, don't you think?"

"You're going to levitate something?" Aleksander enquired, an eyebrow raised.

"A fan of J.K. Rowling, do I see? Nice choice. Amazing woman, very kind. She was a good friend of mine." Arthur said proudly.

"Yes, I am going to levitate something. Pass me my satchel, would you? My wand is in there."

The Norwegian citizen passed the bag to his patient/nation. "If you manage to harm yourself, Lukas, I swear that I will personally see that you are tied to a bed so you can't go anywhere and cause trouble until you have fully recovered."

"I don't doubt it. But I have been doing this for millenniums, I'm a professional." The platinum blonde replied with a sly smile, knowing full well that reminding Aleksander that he was well over forty times times his age made him uncomfortable.

Lukas reached into his bag and drew out a long, thin stick decorated with patterns that were reminiscent of the intricate, delicate elegance of snowflakes. He held it in his right hand and swished it downwards, muttering words under his breath.

"Bloody hell!" The half-English doctor said, seeing Arthur's iPhone rise gracefully into the air. "How the fuck...?"

"Careful with that, Lukas. If you get so much a scratch on it, I'll give yours to Matthew and Ivan to use as a puck for their ice hockey." Arthur threatened.

"H-how are you doing that?" The Norwegian citizen stammered in shock.

"We told you, it's because we have the ability to do magic. This is one of the simplest spells there is, which Lukas is performing because he has little energy to spare and some of the black magic we can use takes up quite a lot of energy." Arthur explained patiently, eyes on his beloved phone. "Our magic is a little different to that in books- J.K. Rowling came close, but we don't have separate worlds in which the magically gifted learn everything in a classroom and where there are enough to fill a school... No, we're a rarity."

Lukas let the phone fall a few centimetres just to scare Arthur, and then guided it gently back onto the bedside table.

"See? So, we know why we are so much weaker than the others. We just don't know how to cure our illnesses." He said.

"Give me a second," Robert said, shaking his head. "I'm just trying to get my head around the way I just saw you levitate an iPhone."

"Seconded, except it's about a thousand times weirder for me, for I just watched the man that I thought I knew for around twenty years levitate an iPhone." Aleksander added, amusedly watching Arthur snatch up his phone and run his fingers over it anxiously, checking for any damage.

"You didn't even slightly suspect that Lukas had magical powers? He has a floating curl!" Arthur looked up to ask.

"To be honest, I didn't really notice that it's floating until you mentioned it just. Hey, Lukas, can I have a look at that?"

"No! It's very sensitive. No-one is allowed to touch my curl." Lukas said firmly, dropping his wand back into his bag.

"But it's floating! It's not attached to your head! How?"

"How am I supposed to know? Magic, probably."

"The thing that makes that sentence weird is that I know you're not joking..."

The two Norwegians argued for a bit until Arthur snapped his fingers to get their attention. They turned back to the two Englishmen (well, Englishman and half-Englishman) with slightly guilty expressions.

"Do you two always fight like that?" Arthur asked, exasperated.

"We're not fighting, we're having a slight disagreement." Lukas said in his old tsundere manner, his nose in the air.

"Sorry. We do- ah- disagree quite often, don't we, Lukas?" Aleksander said with a smirk.

"I don't know why you seem to think that you're superior to me, Aleks, I'm not only infinitely older than you, but you are my citizen! I am your nation!" Lukas fumed.

"Perhaps because if it were not for me, you would not be alive? You may be my nation, but you are also my patient. My most- ahem- delicate patient, as well."

"I am not delicate!" Lukas seethed.

"Oh? Not delicate? Then why, may I ask, do you have to take seven different types of medicine before you go skiing? Hmm?"

"That- that's not fair! That doesn't mean I'm delicate!" The platinum blonde pouted, his fellow Norwegian smirking and Arthur shaking with laughter at the two. The young half-English doctor was just looking at the scene with confusion. He had only just come to terms with the fact that Arthur's iPhone had just been levitated by an expert skier with a hair clip, and now said expert skier was arguing with what was probably the only other doctor in the world who knew of the national representatives. (And he was still shocked to find out that a master at such a dangerous sport had an irregular heart rhythm- sure, Lukas was a nation and therefore not as affected by it as humans, but by the sounds of it, he still had a pretty hard time with it, which to him made the blonde rather amazing.)

"I don't mean to take sides, but I think that if Mr. Bondevik were not fairly strong, he wouldn't have survived his arrhythmia, surely?" Robert cut off the two platinum blondes.

"Exactly! Thank you, Dr. Nilsen! I am not delicate. If I were delicate, I would not have survived at all." Lukas agreed.

"You are delicate, just admit it! Someone who has over five different illnesses can generally be classed as delicate, Lukas. Yes, you may have survived, but that just means that you are strong for a delicate person. God, how does Matthias put up with you? So stubborn..."

"Leave my boyfriend out of this!" Lukas said through gritted teeth.

"Alright, alright! Just accept that you are delicate!" Aleksander said, all too happily.

"No, I will not!" Lukas said stubbornly.

"I don't mean to butt in- it is hilarious to see Lukas to lose an argument, I congratulate you, Dr. Christensen- but Lukas, you seriously need to learn to recognise when you need to use your inhaler. I can see that you're breathing heavily." Arthur cut in. Lukas scowled but did as he was told, realising that it was, indeed, getting rather hard to breathe.

"Okay, okay! So I'm 'delicate'. What of it?" Lukas finally spat out.

"I was simply commenting on how I am superior to you because if it weren't for me, you would most likely be dead." Aleksander smiled sweetly at Lukas.

"Yes, yes, you're very skilled and talented. Get that stick out of your arse, child."

"You think I'm skilled and talented? Oh, Lukas! I'm so flattered!" The Norwegian batted his eyelashes and fanned himself with his hands, teasing Lukas.

"What happened to a doctor and his patient having a professional relationship? Dr. Nilsen and Arthur have a wonderfully sane relationship- why do I not get such professionalism?" Asked the aforementioned sapphire-eyed blonde.

"That, dear Lukas, was thrown out of the metaphorical window the moment you insisted on skiing a week after surgery. No, wait- I lie, it was thrown out of the window just after said surgery when the king told me who you were, and you then woke up and told me to 'get the fuck out, fucking human'." Aleksander informed him smoothly, making him blush slightly.

"...I feel that we have veered off track somehow. Before Lukas levitated Arthur's iPhone, we were actually talking about what we travelled here for... What's more, I would like to state that our relationship is nothing close to sane, I despair of Arthur and his continuous desire to overwork himself." Robert reminded them.

"Very good point, Robert. Control yourself, Lukas." Arthur agreed, ignoring his doctor's pointed comment. Lukas sighed and attempted to adjust his position, failing miserably.

"So, as we were saying, we know why you are ill, we just don't know how to cure it. I've noticed that Arthur requires more medicine than us humans do to keep his conditions under control, is it the same for Lukas?" The brunette aimed his question at the other doctor in the room.

"Yes, he gets through his inhalers about twice as fast as my other patients. His heart isn't affected by this, though. I don't think overdosing on medicine is a problem for them."

"Right. In that case..."

The four continued to discuss the topic until a certain Icelandic teenager (only physically, of course) burst in, a dangerous expression on his normally emotionless face.

"Lukas! Is it true?!" He yelled in his first language at his brother, who winced and sank into his chair a little, fully aware of the volcanic temper that Emil possessed.

"I-Is what true?" Lukas replied nervously in the same dialect.

"Lukas, I'm not sure that feigning ignorance is your best choice here," Arthur advised him, also speaking Icelandic. "You're clutching your inhaler and are in the company of two doctors, one of which was taking your pulse when your brother walked in."

"So it IS true!" The white-blonde cried, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"And why the fuck didn't you tell me? What happened to being brothers, hmm?"

Lukas was full-on cowering away from his younger brother now. (But not without sending a very dirty look to the sandy blonde now laughing silently at him.) "I-I'm sorry... I-I uh, was worried in case an enemy found out and used it to their advantage." He lied, trembling slightly at his Icelandic brother's expression. He looked to Arthur for support on his lie, but the latter simply smirked and mouthed something along the lines of him having to deal with a hysterical frog.

Lukas gave him a look that he normally reserved only for his idiot of a boyfriend (in other words, one that was colder than the Arctic and Antarctic put together and- if looks could kill- would induce a long and very painful death on the victim), to which Arthur responded with another smirk, completely immune to his friend's coldness as a fellow 'tsundere'.

"Bullshit! What the fuck, Lukas?! What the actual fuck?! Why would you hide something like this from me? Does the word 'brother' not mean anything to you?" Emil shouted at his older brother, who was showing a surprising amount of emotion for once.

"E-Emil, I'm sorry, it's just..." The platinum blonde trailed off, unsure whether or not to explain it to his brother. His decision was made for him when Arthur spoke up.

"I don't know about Lukas, but what made me keep it from my family- who reacted fairly similarly, maybe a little less... Explosive- was the fact that telling a fellow nation meant accepting it myself, which was sort of like admitting defeat to the illnesses. It was just easier to hide it. Now that everyone has found out about it, it's different because I'm not the only one. I think that if I still thought I was the only one, I would be almost giving up at this point."

"Exactly my thoughts. Finding out I wasn't the only one gave me the strength to tell the others. Otherwise, I would still be hiding it." Lukas said truthfully.

Iceland paused in his rage to look at the pair. He understood their way of thinking, but god, they looked awful. How could anyone hide something like this for so long? His brother could barely sit up straight, and England... Well, he looked even worse than Lukas, and he could barely move for the amount of equipment attached to him. He noticed that the two humans in the room had shrunk back slightly at his anger. Hell, even his brother seemed to be trembling. He supposed that it was his volcanic temper taking over- the anger lay silently for long periods of time before being awakened and exploding violently. He didn't mean to scare his older brother; all he was aiming to achieve was to make Lukas (and England, as well- Arthur was very important to Leon, and if anything more happened to him, his boyfriend would probably go insane. As it was, the Asian hadn't said a word since the meeting, and had apparently gone into some kind of daze) see sense. He couldn't believe the idiots had been so stupid as to hide it from the rest of them, if they had known, then it was unlikely that they would have been given large amounts of work that could lead to exhaustion, and would have been excused from meetings a lot more easily.

God, they were stupid.

"But you still should have told me. I can't believe the two of you were so stupid as to keep it secret for so long. If we had known the two of you were unwell, we wouldn't have given you half as much work. Seriously, Lukas, that was just stupid. Fuck strength and all that shit, you'll have less strength after a pile of paperwork than telling your own brother that you're not feeling well. And Arthur! Have you any idea how much you have worried Leon?! He hasn't spoken once since the meeting!" His violet eyes flashed with anger and worry.

"Ah... Is that right? I don't suppose you know where he is, do you?" Arthur asked Emil nervously.

"Down the corridor a little, in one of the chairs that the guy who looks like America and Russia were in a while ago, playing on his phone." Iceland sighed.

"Thank you... Hey, Robert? Would you be a dear?" Arthur spoke in Norwegian again, though he knew Robert understood Icelandic.

"What does he look like?" The young doctor asked wearily.

"Physically around eighteen, dark hair, brown eyes, Asian, similar eyebrows to mine, the case on his iPhone will be the flag of Hong Kong. Thank you, love."

The (half) Norwegian ran a hand through his light brown hair. "You are so lucky I can just about follow Icelandic." He said, stalking out, leaving the two weakened nations to be reprimanded by the scary violet-eyed blonde.

A/N

Dieu, what even is this?


	6. Chapter 6

When Robert found the Asian "teenager" sitting stiffly in an armchair not far from Arthur's room, head bowed over his iPhone, he was mildly shocked to see the absolute lack of expression on his face. Of course, he knew that Hong Kong was worried about Arthur and that this was his way of showing it, but it wasn't natural to show so little emotion, surely?

He cautiously announced himself by clearing his throat.  
"M-Mr Chun?" He said nervously when Leon did not look up, remembering the anger of the (supposed) teenager's boyfriend.

"Yes?" The Asian snapped, eyed still firmly on his phone.

"A-Arthur sent me, he would like to see you."  
At this Leon finally looked up, cold brown eyes fixing on Robert's pale blue ones. "Who are you? What is your name?"

"Robert Nilsen. Arthur's doctor. A pleasure to meet you, Mr Chun, I have heard much about you." He held out his hand to the shorter man.

"Arthur's... Doctor? He has a doctor?" Leon breathed in horror, ignoring the outstretched hand.

"Well, y-yes, I mean, it would be ridiculous not to, for instance he needs medication for his conditions, and I know that he doesn't really know much about medicine, so I help him with that..." Robert stammered, intimidated by the Asian.

"How long has he had a doctor for?"

"W-well, he's had me for seven years, and before that Dr. Lewis for about twenty-two years, and before that, I'm not really sure." Robert really didn't like the murderous look on Leon's face.

"...Let's go." Leon then started muttering things under his breath in Chinese, which Robert couldn't understand, but he suspected that they were colourful and insulting towards the Asian's father figure.

"R-right..."

They made their way back to Arthur's room, Robert genuinely scared of the murderous look on Leon's face.

"You're not English, are you?" Leon observed, looking at Robert's pale complexion and very un-English t-shirt under his white shirt. (It was advertising a rather obscure Norwegian band, and was by far Robert's favourite item of clothing and he had acquired a bad habit of wearing it to work under his shirt "for warmth". Having spent most of his childhood in Norway, he was used to much colder temperatures, so it was really a poor excuse. Then again, Arthur (his one and only patient- the blonde took up all his time, and he didn't exactly need any more work with the cheque he was given each month) himself wore band shirts and skinny jeans when he wasn't at work, and he certainly didn't complain when Robert did.)

"No, not really. I'm half Norwegian."

"How did you become Arthur's doctor?" The Asian enquired.

"I did work experience with his previous one, and Arthur decided to make me his personal doctor. I was really quite flattered, to be honest. He put a lot of trust in me, and I hope I repaid it well."

"Hmmm... You must be good at what you do, then. My father has some serious trust issues."

"I will admit, I am quite learned in my field of work. I don't mean to be arrogant, but I know that I am quite good at what I do. Of course, Arthur completely confused me..."

"I can imagine. Our status generally shocks humans."

"You could say that..."

As they stepped into Arthur's room, Leon's expression softened a little, yet he still proceeded to yell at his father.  
"ARTHUR! Care to explain why you couldn't tell me, someone who is basically your son about something that could be life-threatening?!"

"Err... Yes, well... It's as I explained to your boyfriend, telling equals accepting, which generally makes it all harder. Anyway, moving onwards..." Arthur said quickly, not wanting the Asian to begin one of his famous rants.

"I don't care, you should have told me!"

"That is what everyone is saying. If I had told you all, that would defeat the object. If I had told one of you, it would be showing nonexistent favouritism. Come here, Leon. Let your old man off the hook just this once, please?" Arthur pleaded.

"No! Why should I? You- could- have- DIED!" Leon yelled, punctuating each word with a fist to Arthur's bedside table, shaking the many containers of medicine and his two electronics on it.

"Hey, hey, careful with the iPhone and iPad. My work is on those, you know. If the devices are destroyed, so is my work, and I left my MacBook with Allistor so that he can get my work when I save it on my iPhone."

Leon stared at him in disbelief. "No wonder you collapsed! You're a complete workaholic! You do more work than the rest of us put together, and yet- and yet YOU KNOW WHAT IT COULD DO TO YOU!"

"Cool it, Lee-Lee. I think Arthur has paid for his stupidity." Emil attempted to soothe his boyfriend.

"No! What if it were Lukas overworking himself, Em? What if it were Lukas who was knowingly doing himself harm?"

"Leon, please. I've had this four- five times now. Yao, George, Allistor, Owain and Robert have all said almost exactly the same to me. Do you really think I haven't got the message yet? My brothers aren't going to let me work as much as I used to, anyway. Please, Leon. I really am sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was worry you."

Leon sighed and gave his father a long, disappointed look. "I would have hoped that the last thing you wanted to do was to fall ill. I still can't believe your stupidity, Arthur. You are ridiculous. Why you couldn't have just told one of us- damn pride and strength and all that shit, any sensible person tells someone when they feel ill, you idiot!" Leon seethed.

"Well, technically, I did tell someone... I always tell Robert and George..."

"Yes, Arthur. That is right. You tell your boss and the doctor that you shouldn't have to have. Fuck you, Arthur." Despite his words, Leon stepped towards Arthur until he was close enough to lean down and brush the unruly blonde hair out of Arthur's emerald eyes and fix his usually dull chocolate gaze onto the jewel-like orbs. "Fuck your pride."

"I think not, it would be sacrilegious," Arthur said with a heavy French accent, playing with the younger nation. In return, Leon simply pouted, reluctantly letting Arthur know that he was half forgiven.

"Lee-Lee... We should go," Emil said gently, realising that the four had been having a discussion before he burst in.

"Okay," Leon sighed, giving Arthur a last stern look and saying with a frown, "You have no idea how much you worried me."

"You know, a lot of people have been saying that to me recently. You're right. I have no idea..." Arthur's eyes clouded over in thought. When he snapped back to reality, it was with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I didn't mean to zone out there."

"Hmph," Leon wore his usual blank expression- the one he wore before the whole incident, his old, familiar face- and he pulled his boyfriend out of the room as Emil pulled away from one of Lukas' rare hugs.

"Good grief... Family..." Arthur sighed long-sufferingly.

"You don't say. Emil is just like one of his volcanoes... He keeps it under control and then just... Explodes..." Lukas shuddered.

"So, your younger brother is dating Arthur's... Son? Isn't that weird?" Aleksander asked.

"Leon isn't really related to me, he's just sort of like my son, and, well..." Arthur trailed off, blushing slightly.

"What Arthur is trying to say is that it is weird, but only because it reminds him of when we were together," Lukas smirked.

"You were together?!" Robert and Aleksander said in unison as Arthur's blush darkened dramatically.

"Yeah, a few centuries ago, before Arthur fell in love with France and I, for some reason, started dating Matthias," Lukas said, still smirking.

"Of course, Lukas here has history with all the nations..." Arthur retaliated. The platinum blonde gave a small squeak and he himself blushed darkly.

"What?! You mean... You've dated all the nations? Surely not your brother as well?" Aleksander asked, shocked at this unexpected fact.

"He rarely got so far as to date them, most of it was just one night. And yes, that includes Emil. And Leon. And my brothers, excepting Peter because Sweden and Finland wouldn't let him go anywhere near their 'son'..." Arthur himself smirked. "The only nations he hasn't fucked are Liechtenstein, Sealand, America (Alfred isn't always aware of the fact that he exists) and Italy Veneziano. That's Venetian Italy, by the way. Northern Italy. His brother, however... Let's just say that Romano generally avoids Lukas nowadays."

"Arthur, please, please, I'm begging you... Aleks will never let this go..." Lukas pleaded.

"I think his longest relationship after Denmark and then me was with Austria... They got on very well together, though I think that there was some sort of debate over who was better at skiing that caused them to break it off. Incidentally, Lukas is currently in the lead, but a few centuries ago, Roderich just had the edge..."

"You're killing me!" Lukas cried dramatically.

"Calm down, Lukas. I would say it's only a joke, but it's all true..." Arthur said, smirking.

Robert sighed. Nations were crazy. Absolutely insane. And Aleksander had clearly been influenced by Lukas. Nevertheless, he raised his eyebrows at the older man, and surprisingly got an empathetic look, the silver-blonde clearly feeling the same way as he did. In an attempt to find the little sanity the two possessed, he once again tried to bring the conversation back on track.

"Arthur! Control yourself! Once again, we have veered right off track. Prior to the entrance of Iceland, we actually were talking for a purpose..." He reprimanded the blonde.

"Okay, okay. But Lukas, you really should just accept the fact that you are a slut," Arthur said with an overly dramatic air of finality.

"I am not a slut. At least I didn't fuck my former colony," Lukas seethed.

"At least I didn't fuck my brother," Arthur said calmly.

"You had sex with both America and Canada. And you and France raised them. I think that that is considerably worse."

"Matthew takes after Francis in that respect. He, like you, has fucked a rather large amount of people. However, he, unlike you, has only fucked around half the world. You've fucked almost the same amount of people as Francis."

"He certainly does take after France in that respect..." Lukas said, almost flirtatiously, provoking a startled glance from Aleksander.

"God, Lukas! Have you been hiding your inner slut from me or something?!" Aleksander asked in a shocked tone.

"I don't have an inner slut!" Lukas defended himself.

"Yeah, right. Tell the world that," Arthur smirked.

"Arthur! Control yourself, you crazy, untamed punk!" Robert cried, at his wit's end with the two.

"Ah-ha! So Robert knows about your punk side, then, Arthur?" Lukas smiled mischievously.

"Yes, Lukas, so there's no need to enlighten him further. Perhaps I could tell Aleksander about our band, hmm?" Arthur shot back.

"Wait. Lukas? In a band?" The Norwegian leaned forward, interested. "I didn't even know you could play an instrument."

"Yes, he plays several. He likes to pretend that his main instrument is the violin, on which he plays classical, respectable music but, instead, he harbours a secret passion for a rather less conservative instrument... Of course, he is very good on the violin, but when he plays his signature instrument..." Arthur trailed off, smirking once more.

"Which is?" Aleksander enquired.

"No, Arthur. Aleks does not need to know that," Lukas said firmly.

"Which is the electric guitar, a custom-made Gibson with a distressed Norwegian flag and "Kingdom of Norway" printed to look like it has been scratched in. And a lot of different Scandinavian curses. As in swears, not spells. When he performs, he dyes red and blue streaks into his hair to match it and wears black eyeliner with hints of his colours in. And then he generally wears distressed black skinny jeans with white paint splatters on and a plain black t-shirt with his name on it in simple white letters (we all wore one with our own name on) and leather jacket. Oh, and a red, white and blue scarf," Arthur said sweetly, bringing up an exact mental image of Lukas when they were in a band together.

They still played together, but decided to give it a rest with the gigs for a few generations, lest anyone become suspicious. (Supposedly. The real reason, of course, was because of Lukas' heart (though Arthur hadn't known that then) and Arthur's regular illness (which, in return, Lukas had no idea of at the time).) Their band consisted of only four people: a singer/guitarist (Arthur); a lead guitarist (Lukas); a drummer (Prussia- God knows how anyone put up with him, but apart from Matthew and Arthur, Gilbert was the only person to know Lukas' true personality- the one concealed with painkillers and medication, and the one revealed through his guitar) and a bassist (Matthew made an exceptional bassist and showed a surprising passion for punk culture).

"No. No, no, no, no. I did not just hear you say that to someone who is going to use it against me for the rest of his life. No way," Lukas shook his head, his curl bobbing with each movement.

"...eyeliner? Are you serious? Eyeliner? Oh, Lukas. Lukas, Lukas, Lukas," Aleksander shook with laughter, a picture of the platinum blonde in his punk attire very clear in his mind.

"Hey, Robert? Did you know that Arthur has a collection of makeup worth over two hundred pounds?" Lukas asked, trying for revenge. However, his attempt failed spectacularly when the young medic answered him.

"Yes, I did. In fact, I have seen it in all its glory and admired it when visiting Arthur one particularly bad day for him."

"Admired it?" Queried Lukas, slightly confused. In answer, Robert tugged a few of his buttons undone, knowing that the personification of Norway would, of course, recognise the punk band his t-shirt was supporting.

Lukas bit his lip, defeated. "Damn it. How the fuck do you remember my outfit so clearly anyway, Arthur? It was over a century ago. After that, we had to take a break from it, and we both now know the real reason."

"Easily. Can't you? And speaking of, does Gilbert even know? About me? Let alone you? Hell, I don't think Matthew knows about you. Ought they know?" Arthur mused.

"They should. We technically lied to them. I mean, no-one is going to remember us now, but I don't think I'm up to it. And shut it, Aleks. Remember who's superior here," Lukas glared at his doctor, whose face lit up at the prospect of Lukas finally realising his delicateness and perhaps also stopping completely overdoing it so much. (Because, really. Who in their right mind wants to go skiing at all after a complicated heart surgery, and what the fuck was Lukas thinking when he wanted to go a week after?)

"I feel the same way, actually. I just don't have the energy required to play and sing to my full potential..."

"You don't have the energy to play or sing at all, Arthur. You can barely sit up. And please can we return to the point of our conversation?" Robert pleaded the three blondes.

"Okay, okay. What were we talking about?"

"Well, I don't believe Dr. Christensen ever finished taking Lukas' pulse..."

"Get over here, punk," Aleksander smirked, picking his smartphone up and bringing up a medical app.

Lukas groaned and shot a glare at the younger man. God, he hated being ill.

EMC, Moscow  
Just under three hours later

"Are you done yet, Aleks? It's been nearly three hours. I'm about to fall asleep here," Lukas yawned, tired of the constant flow of medical jargon his two citizens were exchanging. Sure, he understood it, but that didn't mean he wanted to interpret it right now. He wasn't sure if he wanted to interpret it at all, actually, judging by their tones.

"Not quite, Lukas, patience," Aleksander replied, placing his stethoscope against the slim man's skin for what seemed like the millionth time.

"Why do I have to be awake for this? Why can't I go to sleep like Arthur?" Lukas asked, resorting to whining in his fatigued state. The aforementioned Englishman had fallen asleep after Robert had noted down just about everything from his heart rate to his temperature on his iPhone. Lukas, however, was still being examined by his doctor- and now also by Arthur's doctor, for some reason.

"You can sleep after this, I promise. Speaking of, where are you going to sleep?"

"The others either went back to Sunflower Plaza or slept in accommodation provided for 'relatives of the patient'. I slept in here on some duffels last night."

"Lukas! That is not the way to take care of your body!" Aleksander reprimanded.

"I didn't really have a choice, I fell asleep there."

"So, where are you going to sleep tonight?" Aleks asked, handing Lukas his shirt.

"You know, that's part of an old song..." Lukas started singing in English (with a surprisingly accurate Scottish accent) under his breath whilst tugging his shirt back on slowly, only to snap back to reality when Aleksander snapped his finger in front of his face. "Sorry. I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it."

"I refuse to let you sleep in anything but a bed."

"I'm not sure there are any beds nearby that aren't taken by the other nations. Quite a few of us stayed for various reasons."

"I don't suppose you have enough energy to go back to the meeting place?"

"No. I don't think I do. I'm just too tired. Sorry."

The (healthy) Norwegian ran a hand through his hair, worried for the smaller man in front of him. He may not be human, but no-one can remain completely unaffected by a ridiculously high heart rate and horribly bad asthma. And that was just to name two. If they were back in Norway, Aleksander would have immediately insisted that Lukas spend the night in his hospital, where he could keep an eye on him, but they were most inconveniently not. (In Norway, that is.)

"Where are you sleeping, Robert?" Aleks asked the brown-haired man entering data into his iPhone.

"George and Arthur booked a room for me at the closest hotel," He replied, looking up briefly and then going back to his smartphone.

"Right. Well, I don't think I should leave you, Lukas- don't look at me like that, you aren't exactly the picture of health at the moment, you know- so I think that we should get a room at a hotel nearby, as well."

"You can have mine," Robert looked up again to say.

"Sorry?"

"Have my hotel room, Arthur needs me here. The room is going to be pretty big- George doesn't know how to book anything else- which means that there will at least be a double bed and a sofa. And a minibar, etcetera, in case either of you gets hungry. The hotel itself is pretty luxurious, and George always books the best suites. He is the leader of one of the richest countries in the world, after all. Please. Take it. I'll send you the booking details that you'll need to show at the desk."

"Are you sure?" Aleks said uncertainly.

"Yes. Any idiot could see that Lukas is seriously unwell, and as a fellow doctor-to-a-nation, it's the least I could do."

"Thank you, that is very kind. But where are you going to sleep?"

Robert gestured to his forgotten chair. "Here. They can't be much worse than sleeping on Arthur's sofa in his London flat."

"Point taken. Still. Are you going to be okay?"

"Of course. Please, take Lukas to the hotel. He looks like he's about to pass out."

"I am not about to pass out," Lukas said weakly, not even bothering to lift his head.

"Mm-hm. That's why your eyes are closed and you are draped over that chair like one of your creepy cloaks." Aleks teased, knowing it would get a reaction.

"Fuck you, Aleks," The platinum blonde replied tiredly.

"You have a boyfriend, I have a friends-with-benefits relationship with the receptionist at the gym. So I rather think that to fuck me would not really be an appropriate thing for you to do. It would probably kill you, anyway. Email me the booking details, Robert. I did give my email to you, didn't I? Did Arthur or Harrington pay for it or did you?" Aleks said to Robert.

"Harrington or Arthur, not sure which one, both have more money than they know what to do with. And yes, I have got your email... There. Done. Have fun, my fellow Norwegians," Robert smirked as the small blonde was thrown over the shoulder of the larger one, the satchel and messenger bag thrown over the other one.

"H-hey! What are you doing? Put me down! I can walk! You could have hurt me when you threw me over your shoulder, anyway, you know!" Lukas tried and failed to raise his voice at his citizen.

"You? Walk? I think not. No, Lukas. I am carrying you unless we happen to encounter a wheelchair on our way. And then I will temporarily push you until we have to leave the wheelchair. Then I shall carry you again."

"I hate you. I really do."

"You pay me to try and keep you healthy. What do you expect me to do?"

"Not humiliate me, that's for sure."

"Shh, Lukas. Stop talking, you'll wear yourself out."

By this stage, the two had reached the lift that would take them to the ground floor and out of the hospital, Lukas still being carried by Aleksander and said sickeningly healthy Norwegian not even close to becoming weary due to his nation literally resting on his shoulder.

Once Aleks had called and stepped into the lift, he gently set the slim skier back onto the ground, aware that he was not exactly Lukas' favourite person at that second.

"Never do that again, Aleks. Understand?" Lukas said firmly.

"What, and let you collapse? What kind of a doctor would do that? No, Lukas. You don't have the energy to stand, let alone actually walk. I'm not going to let you hurt yourself," Aleks replied, equally as firmly.

"I pay you to help me stay halfway healthy. Not to humiliate me."

"Sometimes, dear Lukas, the two have to go hand-in-hand."

"You could have just found me a wheelchair. Or I could have easily walked. And I don't care what you say, I'm not incapable of movement, you know."

"Lukas. Get a grip. You can barely stand up. Your heart is affecting you. Just admit it."

"No! I-I won't, w-why- ah!" For the second time in under twenty-four hours, Lukas broke off with a sharp cry, hand immediately going to his chest. Aleksander sprang into action, supporting the platinum blonde with one arm and diving into his bag with the other. Not a second later, he had located the syringe and shot the contents into Lukas' arm. Fingers on the slim wrist, he waited for the slowing pulse to return to 'normal'- as normal as anyone with an abnormal heart rhythm can get.

"Don't say anything, Lukas. Just rest, okay?"

Lukas gave him a weak nod. Once the nation had regained enough strength to be lifted, the doctor gently lifted him over his shoulder again. He carried the blonde out of the hospital and waved down a taxi.

Glancing at his smartphone, Aleksander told the driver their destination. It took them mere minutes to arrive, whereupon the Norwegian overtipped him by around one hundred percent and hurried, Lukas once again in his arms, towards the hotel.

He checked them both in, ignoring the second glances towards his nation, and gently laid Lukas down on the overly large bed.

"Sweet God, Lukas... What am I going to do with you?"

The platinum blonde simply closed his eyes and let a hand rest on his chest. Aleks sighed and rummaged through his bag, searching for something- anything- to ease his patient's- no, his friend's discomfort.

A/N

I take no responsibility for the crappiness of this entire story.


End file.
